


The 6:45 to Midtown

by 17405



Series: The 6:45 to Midtown (series/collection) [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Clint is a horrible bro, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hipster Steve Rogers, M/M, Meet-Cute, Musician Bucky Barnes, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Punk Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-04-12 04:59:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4466300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17405/pseuds/17405
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve rode the same train nearly every morning to work. He wasn’t entirely certain how long he’d been choosing the same car, but after he began to notice the regular face…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> *the title sucks, I know. I had no idea what to use so I pulled it out of my ass.
> 
> Oh my god, I’m actually posting something. I can’t even believe it. I’ve lurked in the shadows for so long, I’m bored on my weekend and I’m thinking someone might actually like this. So before I chicken out of this, I'm going to just post it!!! And in posting it I realize how SHORT this is. oops.
> 
> So this actually happened to a friend of mine! LOL. I ended up typing this originally a couple years ago for an entirely different fandom and I never did anything with it. After reading some cute Bucky!Steve fics, I thought I’d dust it off and revamp it and see what it was like with these two and I felt it totally works.
> 
> And sort of a disclaimer I guess, but I think one of the reasons I’ve been afraid of posting a fic of any kind is I read so many, I would hate to inadvertently rip off someone else’s story!? So I feel pretty comfortable about posting this without some sort of fallout. I hope. I’m sure you know what I mean. I don’t mean to rip off anyone else’s idea(s), if I am somehow, don’t hunt me down and murder me, just tell me.
> 
> Anyway, happy reading, if you like it kudos or comment or whatever. or don’t. I’m not posting this for that, since I’m almost so deathly embarrassed about anyone finding out my normal screenname I’ve used my employee number from my work as my screen name here! HAH.

The guy was gorgeous. Tall. But of course, Steve was so small nearly everyone was ‘tall’ to him. Brown hair, big blue eyes, lean. Tall and Gorgeous was always already on the train when Steve got on, and still there when Steve got off at his stop. For all Steve knew, the guy lived on the train.

 

Which, alright, was far-fetched and he knew it.

 

The guy always wore the same sour expression, wore the same beaten and worn-in leather jacket paired with an even more so worn in charcoal grey hoodie that border lined on ratty. Steve reasoned that it could be a number of reasons as to why for these things. People on the subway and the streets weren’t kind. Putting up some sort of front probably helped. Especially in this guy’s case, since he looked like he could probably take a guy or two down in a fight.

The guy usually stood near the last door of the car, leaning against something, hands shoved into his pockets. But today Steve was running late and he almost missed the train entirely; he had just managed to squeeze through the doors in a maneuver that would have made Indiana Jones proud before they shut, the hiss of the hydraulics sounded and the car began to move.

There was a seat open, to his shock. And of course the only reason it was still available? Was because it was next to tall dark and sour.

Biting his lower lip, Steve glanced around. No one was making a move towards the empty seat. And he really wanted to-no, _needed_ to sit. The dash down the stairs hadn’t helped his asthma, and he did have his inhaler but he didn’t want to use it here. Especially not in front of _him_. Which was stupid, because the guy probably didn’t even realize they rode on the same train nearly every day. Steve was small, shrimpy and looked like a massive nerd with his blonde hair combed to the side, thick rimmed glasses- _hipster chic_ , Natasha had tutted at him-guys like talk dark and sour face didn’t bother looking at people like him, unless they wanted their wallet or something.

The small ache in his chest won out. He stepped around the black denim-clad legs and heavy boots to move to the space. His converse squeaked just a little as he turned to sit, and he shifted his messenger back to his lap to avoid hitting the guy in the face.

The train began to move, and after one stop he realized the other was slowly leaning; risking a glance from the corner of his eye, he realized that the dark mysterious person was dozing off. The guy looked a little rough around the edges this morning, more than normal; there was a scruff of stubble on his face like he’d forgotten to shave. It added to the surly disposition the guy gave off.

Steve didn’t mind it at all, in fact he reveled in it for he could continue to fantasize about those pouty lips, the long fingers, and that messy brown hair-hey, did he have tattoos? He always wore that jacket and-

Well, he _did_ mind when the much taller finally dozed off enough to where his head lay down onto his. Both cursing and cheering the fact he was so short, he froze for a moment. His eyes darted around. No one seemed to notice this. Or at least, they pretended they didn’t notice.

After a few more moments the man shifted and corrected himself, taking his head off his without a word and letting it fall back against the dirty window.

Steve stared at an empty patch of the car’s floor, deep in thought. Mostly about how the denim on the leg of his seatmate’s pants was so tight, and how on earth the guy had gotten into them-

It wasn’t until he felt a nudge on his shoulder, a gentle tap to get his attention.

Snapping out of the thoughts that were progressively becoming more and more intense, he looked over to see the guy awake, smiling just a little. His breath caught in his throat and he wondered what on earth he was going to say and _oh god he hadn’t said something out loud had he_!?

“Hey, isn’t this your stop?”

That voice. Deep, smooth, velvet. Blue eyes that looked right at him that were dancing with amusement and how’d he know that it was his stop? Did that mean the other had been paying attention all this time-

Wait.

The closing chime for the doors sounded and he swore, clutching his bag and darting through the bodies to the exit just as the door hissed shut behind him.

He stood there for a moment as the train pulled away.

Then he let out a groan.

“God damnit”

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You guys know each other?” 
> 
> “Sort of. We ride the same morning train over from Brooklyn sometimes,” the man had placed his hands on his hips casually. “I fell asleep on him once.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yes, I'm continuing with this since I actually got more of a response than I thought I would?! (Thank you!)  
> And yes, there is a "?" in place of how many chapters! I THINK I have an idea of where this can go/have a main plot point, whatever you want to call it. But until then I've got a lot of fluff lined up (check the updated tags) and do note the bumped up rating to "T" because eh, swearing? is that a big deal to people? Better safe than sorry. Don't know if it'll get higher than that but we'll see.

Tuesday came and Steve would like to have lied and said he hadn’t given the encounter on Saturday morning another thought.

But of course Steve was a horrible liar, even to himself.

He’d spent his entire weekend agonizing over every little detail, and when those doors had shut behind him he’d realized that he hadn’t even _thanked_ the guy. He was still kicking himself all the way down the stairs to the subway, when his phone dinged a notification. Weaving his way through the crowd, Steve pulled the sleek piece of plastic out of his coat pocket and glanced at the screen.

_Text: Natasha 6:40a.m. Today_

He sighed. If Natasha was already texting him when she knew very well he was on his way in for his shift, this had to be good.

_[So Stark got this brilliant idea that we need live entertainment in the bar.]_

Before Steve could respond, another text bubble popped up.

[ _If I have to listen to another dumb blonde sing ‘feel like a woman’ I’m going to steal all of Loki’s knives.]_

Steve found it hard to take that threat seriously when the picture he’d assigned her contact listing was her holding a mustache-doodled index finger under her nose, attempting to look dignified.

Smirking, he ticked out a response.

[Isn’t it a little early in the day to be doing auditions?]

[ _If we have to do this stupid idea **I’m** going to make damn sure we don’t get some harpy.]_

Another text followed.

_[Cuz I’m certainly not going to let Tony make this choice.]_

Steve gave a small huff of laughter as he boarded the car.

Steve’s eyes darted around the car. The sense of relief that flooded through him _almost_ canceled out the pang of disappointment as he realized that Tall Dark and Gorgeous? Wasn’t there today.

He put his attention back onto his phone.

[See you at the Bou]

____________________________________________________________________

 

 _Bouclier_ was a restaurant and lounge located in Manhattan. The fully stocked elaborate bar was accessible to nearly everyone that came in on a whim, unlike the dining area-- They were no five star ranking, but it was classy enough to make it where one needed a reservation to get in; and the waitlist sometimes rose into two weeks out depending on what season it was.

So yeah, business was good. It was relatively peaceful most of the time, and it wasn’t a bad job to have if you learned to play the game and cater to every stupid request that the bored housewives of investment bankers came up with during their weekly gossip lunches (they should write a book, Natasha said once) luncheons, or bit your tongue when the spoiled rich boys came in with their daddy’s money and their hot blonde bimbo models that only ordered a simple, low-cal dressing salad.

When Steve entered the back door, he went directly to the men’s locker room to change. Fellow waiter Sam was already there, just finishing the button on the wrist of his crisp white shirt. Clint, resident bartender, was stretched out on the bench with hands pillowed under his head and talking lazily about something.

“Morning Steve,” Sam greeted, pulling the long black apron over his head.

“Hey Sam, Clint,” the small blonde greeted with a smile before going to his locker and dumping his bag into it. "what's going on?"

“Clint was just telling me what we missed already this morning,” Sam chuckled.

Steve gave a small snort of a laugh, hanging his coat up on the hook. “Natasha text me. Is that why you’re here so early?” he threw a look at Clint, taking in the jeans and ‘keep calm and drink my booze’ tee shirt as he made his way to the curtained-off area to change.

Clint shifted his head to look upside down at Steve. “Yup. Something about _being supportive in her hour of need_ and keeping her away from sharp objects.”

Sam whistled, leaning against the lockers. “That bad huh?”

“Dude some chick came in dressed like a Lady Gaga wannabe and sang some song about orgasms. I almost lost it. I thought Nat was gonna castrate me under the table.”

“Man, I’m almost scared to go out there now,” Sam rubbed his face.

“Bruce is hiding in his office like a chicken,” Clint drawled. “Paperwork,” he held his fingers up in air quotations.

“I’ll go first,” Steve assured as he pulled his own apron on, emerging from the dressing area.

"you're a saint."

 

____________________________________________________________________

 

Steve entered the kitchen, attempting to loosen the required black bow tie around his neck.

“Morning Loki,” he called out over the sharp, quick clicking of a chopping knife. There was a scrap, an efficient tap, and then more chopping.

Loki was the newest addition to the staff and they knew next to nothing about the guy. He seemed to like it that way.  Originally, the tall intense man was only supposed to be kitchen help to the head chef (Logan- and what an intimidating, unspeaking pair they made...) but when it was discovered that the guy knew his stuff behind the counter and was actually pretty smooth with people, he ended up working bar on Clint’s nights off or if it got too busy. Clint only minded it a little because his tips were always better.

“He’s too damn pretty!” He’d groused when a few of them had gotten together for a _Game of Thrones_ night and there may or may not have been a drinking game involved. “How am I supposed to compete with that?!”

Natasha had dryly responded that maybe he should bathe in the blood of virgins like Loki obviously did, if he wanted skin like that. So then of course Clint and Sam came up with an elaborate backstory within fifteen minutes, involving Hannibal-esque scenarios and tubs of blood.

Steve hadn’t really been able to look at the guy right since, not because it was so disturbing but because remembering drunk Clint and Sam raging over it was _hilarious._ Even right now as he loaded the cart up with water glasses and pre-made silverware sets, he tried to wrestle the smirk off his face.

“How’s it going out there?” Hoping for a response as he stopped at the door, pushing back against it and ready to go through with the cart. He didn’t _really_ expect an answer, but hey, he could try.

“Ghastly,” Loki’s bored voice floated over his shoulder, not even turning his head as he cut the large onion that he had placed on the counter. “Good luck.”

Steve sighed heavily, and straightened his shoulders. “Thanks.”

When Steve entered the dining room, piano music greeted his ears. Looking around, he noted that several tables had been removed—which caused a mixed feeling of elation and dread, because reservations were hard to come by as it was and now they were down at least four tables. A large black grand had been moved in near the back corner closer to the bar, and seated at it was a man probably not much older than himself; clean cut and in a crisply ironed black shirt.

He then spotted the redhead at one of the nearby tables, papers stacked in front of her as she observed the pianist. Natasha didn’t look tense and therefore Steve reasoned no threat of bodily harm to move out into the dining room to being opening tasks.

The music was pleasant and organic to the room, subtle. It was actually really nice, he realized, but he knew almost next to nothing about the sort of music. He supposed he couldn’t tell the good from the not so good. But he liked it, and well if it helped with the atmosphere in the evenings for the guests who was he to argue. at least it wasn't some woman singing about --he shuddered, shaking it off as he quietly rolled the trolley around the room. Making quick work of placing each in the correct spots without much thought, he listened to the even music.

He moved methodically, and as he set the last table nearest to the door he saw a half-pulled out chair, open satchel full of sheet music plopped into it and draped over the back was— _a beaten and worn-in leather jacket?_

Steve froze for a split second before his head snapped up to the piano, and he swallowed.

There was _no way_ it was the same guy, Steve’s mind chided him. The guy on the train wouldn’t be caught dead--or even allowed-- in a place like this, right?

As if sensing he was being stared at, the pianist’s eyes glanced up towards the door; and that brief moment before going back to focus on playing, a small tug had appeared on the corner of the man’s mouth when their eyes met. _Yep_ , he realized. Same big blue eyes and that same mouth and _nowhere near as intimidating as he usually was._

Steve was in so much trouble.

 

____________________________________________________________________

 

His panicked on-the-fly plan to finish and get back into the kitchen before the playing ended _almost_ succeeded --until he stupidly passed Natasha and something caused the cart to catch, making Steve jerk to a halt. The music ended and Natasha didn’t even spare a look at Steve as she clapped politely to the pianist, her foot sliding back under the table.

The man smiled, giving a small bow as he left the piano and made his way over to them.

“Hey there,” the man greeted with a roguish grin. His demeanor was so…. _casual._ Warm. A complete opposite of the front that he had been presenting on the train the last few weeks that Steve had observed _._

“You guys know each other?” Natasha asked keenly, eyeing Steve as if to say ‘ _since when do you know someone this hot and not tell me about it?’_

“Sort of. We ride the same morning train over from Brooklyn sometimes,” the man had placed his hands on his hips casually. “I fell asleep on him once.”

Steve sputtered, feeling the eyes of Natasha boring into his skull; it was not helping the heating in his ears and he was now grateful for the glasses that took up a lot of his face. “It was just for a second,” he said quickly, as if that made some sort of difference, as if it made it sound better. Which it really didn’t. “You cut your hair!” He blurted out.

“I see,” Natasha hummed. _Yeah, that was smooth. Real smooth, Rogers._

The man smiled at him, and Steve knew he was laughing at him. Shit, he wanted to die. Maybe Loki needed a willing human sacrifice.

“Well Miss Romanov, what did you think?” The pianist asked, changing the subject. For his sake or not, Steve was relieved for it just the same.

“You’re good,” the redhead smiled, nodding. “Really good. I think we can work something out.”

Steve quietly balked at the man because the change was incredible. Dark grey dress pants, black button up and he got a _haircut_ and Steve almost groaned at realizing that those rolled back sleeves? Was revealing just a hint of inked skin and God _he was in so much trouble_ —

“What did you think, Steve?”

Steve’s attention snapped back to the conversation and they both were looking at him. Natasha had spoken to him. “Uh…I-“

The swinging door to the kitchen slammed open, breaking him off.

“Hey, Steve!” Sam called out. “Give me a hand with these tables, would you? We have a reservation for six first thing. Bruce forgot to mention it.”

“Yes!” Steve blurted a little too loudly, spinning around without another look to piano man or Natasha. “Coming!”

 

Sam gave him an odd look as they moved the tables together.

“You OK, man?”

“Yeah, fine!” Steve kicked himself at the high shaky voice, grabbing a chair and moving it over, finishing quickly and hightailing it back to the kitchen.

 

____________________________________________________________________

 

Ten minutes later-and two dozen tableware sets later, a personal best- Natasha came into the back and leaned against the cooler door, eyeing Steve with a knowing smirk while watching him fold napkin with a set determination.

“When he looked up and saw you his eyes almost bugged out of his head.” she said without prompt. “It was cute. At least I know he can deal with a distraction when he’s playing.”

Steve groaned and let his head drop. “Shut up.”

“He pretty much stared at you the whole time you were putting the silverware out. And he totally checked you out when you ran away like the wuss that you are.”

“I-I didn’t run away!” Steve argued. “Sam needed me!”

Natasha watched him for a moment before speaking again.

“His name is James, and he’s starting on Friday night. You’re welcome.”

“You _hired_ him?!” Steve almost shrieked as she pushed away from the door, walking into the back hall.

“Natasha!?”

Steve was in so much trouble.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bouclier - French for shield. (how original, I know, I know...) at least, according to Google Translate. woo, internet.
> 
>  
> 
> So, hope you liked this update, its a lot bigger than the first one which was what really pushed me to post it. 8) I got finished with it last night and thought on it all day to make sure I didn't need to add anything to fit with some other things I have planned, I think we're good :Dv 
> 
> I'm probably overthinking everything and trying to make things too complicated and logical for some dumb little for-fun fic, but I'm really attempting to be realistic about everything--like I've never worked in a restaurant, so I'm not 100% on what exactly you DO in the back? but I can take some guesses and notes from my own customer service job experiences. I'm also more than certain that the hours/shifts/employee counts are too low and highly undoable in real life.  
> but just roll with it ok ? 8D;; woo, fiction! yeah!
> 
> yeah I'm probably just overthinking it. THIS IS TO HAVE FUN, RIGHT? RIGHT. 
> 
> and as always, you see anything that needs the Red Pen of Doom, let me know. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm also sort of on the fence on changing the title?


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Steve, I’m trying to be supportive here. Me. Clint.” he stooped a little to stare Steve straight in the face seriously. “Do you know how hard this is?”
> 
> Steve pouted. “Hard?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this chapter seem choppy? I don't know. I thought I was good with it until I put it on here and started doing last touches and just...Maybe because this chapter has a lot more dialogue than the first two, and less descriptive? Hopefully it's just me. :\ I really tried, you guys! XD I tried to push myself for some word count and to progress this along a bit. So thank you so much for sticking with me :3
> 
> And honesty time here. I feel like I lost a bit of Ditzy!Cute Steve and I didn't really mean to. (and I know how much you guys like him, hah he's fun to embarrass) Part of it could be due to my own failure to keep the character the same (this is the longest time I've focused on writing something since I was in college!) plus eh, can't have a lot of progress if one main character keeps running away from the other main character, right? Gotta move it along 8)
> 
> Oh and someone asked me what music Bucky would be playing? I do have a random thrown-together playlist I've been listening to that's helping me get along in the writing process that includes piano music as well as just random pop/rock songs that just have a good feel for it. (maybe those could just stand for a 'what Bucky and/or Steve would have on their playlists' sorta thing, not necessarily having to do directly with the story)  
> So if anyone wants me to make this mix on 8tracks, I can upload it when I get a little further along and/or just update it whenever something comes along that fits, and let you know when i update the story? :) Lemme know if you're interested in that.
> 
> I gotta say that I'm really enjoying myself writing this, its a fun little high I've never gotten before. Those of you who have messaged/commented/left kudos really made me super happy to know that for once, someone was enjoying something I was creating <3 
> 
> As always, I'm sure there's something that probably isn't quite accurate (like train times, wtf what do I know?) but let's just have some fun ok? ;P And if you see something for the Red Pen of Doom or noticed I effed up something, let me know!

 

 

**Friday, 5:50p.m.**

 

Steve slammed his head into his locker and let out a long groan. “I want to die.”

Clint was nearby checking himself out in the floor-length mirror. “Come on man it’s not that bad,” he gave a tug on his tie. “Besides, he’s not here until the evening dinner hour. You’ve got this.”

“Easy for you to say,” Steve’s smooshed face muffled the words. “You didn’t make an ass out of yourself.” He’d been dreading this shift for the last three days, and he’d purposely stayed in bed to extra hours to wallow.

The bartender chuckled, turning to take in the small body crammed against the locker. “Do you know how much of an ass I made out of myself when I started dating Nat?”

Using his forehead for support, Steve rolled his head to look at him. “You’re always an ass.”

Sighing, Clint walked over to him, clapping a hand over a small shoulder and gave a hearty shake. “Steve, I’m trying to be supportive here. _Me_. Clint.” he stooped a little to stare Steve straight in the face seriously. “Do you know how hard this is?”

Steve pouted. “Hard?”

“Very hard. So,” Clint pulled him up and away from the locker turning him, and then straightening Steve’s collar. "What I want you to do is just suck it up, and pretend that Tuesday didn’t happen. The new guy, Jim-“ “James.” Steve corrected weakly. “Yeah yeah,” he fixed Steve’s collar. “Is gonna be waaaaay over in the corner near me, on the other side of the sorta large room that you run around in. If he starts laughing at you, I’ll punch him his supposedly pretty face.”

A small smile tugged at Steve’s mouth. “Clint, he’s sort of bigger than you.”

Clint froze. “Really.”

“Yeah.”

“Well then,” the bartender cleared his throat. “I’ll get Nat to punch him.”

That earned him an out-right laugh and Clint threw his arm around Steve’s shoulders as they left the locker room.

 

\----

 

8 o’clock came before Steve realized. He’d missed James coming into the dining room and short journey over to the corner where the giant black grand sat, and at one look he was grateful for it; he had a friggin’ _tux_ on. All clean black lines and…and…

Steve wanted to hit his head onto the nearest table. He could practically hear the patrons at table seven; ‘ _sir could you please remove your face from my tomato bisque? You will be getting no tip…_ ’ Because sure the guy cleaned up well when he saw him on Tuesday, but now? The collar of that white shirt did unseemly things to James’ jaw line and Steve was mentally singing the praises of mood lighting. Bright enough to see people but low enough to hide the fact that his face was ten shades of red in the middle of the near-capacity dining room.

Clint’s hack advice floated through his head. _Just pretend Tuesday didn’t happen, just pretend Tuesday didn’t happen._

Oh who was he kidding, he’d made a complete and utter _moron_ out of himse-

Clint made a kissy face at him from behind the counter.

Steve glared.

 

 

Twenty minutes later he approached the bar with an order for drinks, barely sparing Clint a glance as he set his tray on the counter between them.

“Dry martini no olive and a Cosmo.”

“Aw what, no hello?” Clint smiled innocently as he reached for the appropriate glasses.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping me?” he hissed quietly as he watched the liquid falling in the glasses.

“Psshh,” Clint waved a hand at him. “This is too much fun.”

He quickly finished the drinks, depositing them gently on Steve’s tray with a smug smirk on his face.

“Go get ‘em, champ.”

“I hate you.”

 

\---

 

Later in the evening Steve was given a ten minute relief. He bee-lined it through the kitchen, and paused at the break room door. He’d been tense then entire night, feeling it in his shoulders and neck; and he _still_ had another hour and a half to go.

Air. He needed some fresh (well, as fresh as you can get in New York) air. James and stupid eyebrow-wiggling Clint-free _air_.

Shoving the back door open he stepped out into the brisk night. The door clicked shut as he fell back against the bricks of the building, letting out a frustrated groan and removing his glasses so he could rub his face.

“Bad night?”

Steve started, fumbling and nearly dropping his glasses. He looked over; then down. A blob was squatting next to him and he peered hard at it for a second, then he remembered that he was still clutching his glasses tightly in his hands. He slipped them on quickly and realized that it was James next to him, undone bow tie hanging over the unbuttoned shirt collar and arms resting on his knees. “Heya,” James grinned, giving a little wave, holding a smoldering cigarette in his fingers.

_Just pretend Tuesday didn’t happen._

And it wasn’t like Steve could just suddenly go back inside. It was be way too obvious and Steve was just too damn _polite_ for that and _oh shit he really needed to answer James before it got even weirder_.

“Hi,” Steve swallowed, attempting to give his best Servers Smile. It came out and weak and forced but the other seemed to ignore it.

“Steve, yeah?” James’ free hand reached up. “Bucky Barnes.”

As their hands met for a firm shake, Steve frowned. “I thought it was James.”

“It is. But I like being called Bucky. Middle name thing since I was a kid, got used to it.”

Bucky. The nickname fit him. Well, maybe the Train Bucky. Not the button-up, slacks wearing Got-A-Haircut Bucky.

Steve nodded, giving him another forced small smile despite the completely numb and cold out-of-body feeling that had overcome him. Shock, was this shock? It was probably shock. He watched Bucky take another drag from his cigarette, then realized he’d been staring a little too long when he caught Steve from out of the corner of his eye. And like an idiot, Steve looked away a little too quickly, causing Bucky to smirk and blow a stream of smoke out to the side.

“Smoke’s not bothering you is it?”

“No, no,” Steve sputtered quickly. “I’m downwind, so it’s fine.”

The pianist frowned a little, flicking some ash off the end of the stick. “Downwind?” he repeated. “You don’t have asthma or somethin’, do you?”

Steve shrugged a little while forcing his fidgeting leg to remain still by putting hard pressure on it. “Sort of?”

“You should have said,” Bucky tsked and he dropped the cigarette, standing and pushing it out with his toe. Steve felt his ears burning and he cringed, thinking he’d annoyed the guy already by making him waste his smoke like that. Instead Bucky turned his attention back to him, wearing a warm smile as if he knew what Steve was thinking.

“Gotta quit anyway,” the dark brunette said with a wink. Bucky leaned his shoulder against the bricks, crossing his arms. “So how long you been working here?” Bucky’s full attention was on him, and those blue eyes were so intense and clear Steve had to remind himself to breath because God help him if he had an asthma attack now-Bucky was just _looking_ at him. Part of Steve wished he hadn’t had put out that cigarette, so if he passed out or something that would at least be a good excuse as to why.

“Two years, last month," He cleared his throat and attempted to look relaxed as his hands dug into his apron pockets, fingers playing with the order pad in the one and the cluster of pens in the other and…. _a cough drop he’d forgotten about from a couple weeks ago_?

“Yeah? You like it then?”

“Yeah. Everyone’s really nice. Pays’ a bit better than a regular serving job, too.”

A small moment settled between them, with Bucky still staring at him with the same bright eager look as if he were hanging onto every word Steve was saying; and Steve suddenly felt pressured to speak again and his mind was frantically attempting to come up with something, anything-well, ok, _almost_ anything because he did not want a repeat of Tuesday.

“So uh….thanks, for the other day. “

Bucky’s brow furrowed just a bit, a small frown and Steve started to panic—had he over analyzed it? Of course he had, he’s probably forgotten about it. _Stupid stupid stupid_ -

The door behind him slammed open, making him jump at least a good foot into the air and he may or may not have squeaked but he _knows_ he heard Bucky let out a small strangled noise in his throat. Logan loomed in the doorway, looking sour and constipated as usual. Steve was surprised the guy wasn’t carrying a knife with him; it would have complimented the whole entrance perfectly.

“Hill seated someone in your area,” He grunted to Steve, throwing a look over to Bucky then promptly leaving, presumably going back to the kitchen.

_Logan, Ladies and Gentlemen. A man of few words._

Steve quickly forgot about everything and glanced at his watch. “Crap!” five minutes over his break. “I gotta get back in there-“

“Hey Steve, wait a second."

He turned, wincing at the pit of dread that was building in his stomach as he met Bucky’s gaze.

Bucky smiled warmly. “Don’t mention it."

 

\---

  **Closing, 10:13 pm**

 

Last call had been announced at the bar; the tables in the dinging room were quickly cleared of their linens, the chairs pushed in after a quick vacuum and the kitchen was in deep scrub mode. Everyone was working quickly and impatiently so they could go home and get some rest. He didn’t envy the kitchen staff one bit as they were always the last ones out, feeling a small silent victory over Logan.

Bucky had left the dining room at least forty five minutes ago, and Steve had thought him long gone; however entering the locker room the pianist was still there, just pulling his coat on. He turned upon Steve’s entrance and his face lit up with a tired smile. "Hey Steve."

Steve covered his surprise by going to his own locker. "You’re still here?”

“Had some stuff to talk over with Bruce. Hey, you takin’ the train?” He elbowed the locked behind him shut, fixing the familiar grey hoodie over his jacket collar. "We can walk together.”

Steve’s foot caught on the leg of the bench as he rounded it, stumbling.

“I mean, if that’s ok with you,” Bucky was trying not to laugh as he watched Steve open his locker.

“No! I mean yeah! Its fine,” Steve rambled, attempting to play off the klutzy move, pulling his apron off over his head and hanging it on the hook. “Just give me a second to change.”

Bucky chuckled. “Sure thing. I’ll wait out back for you.”

 

 _Bucky wanted to walk with him to the station_ , Steve thought excitedly. That means that Bucky must not have been annoyed by him too much, right? _Or he was just being polite_ , Steve’s logical brain chimed in. But then again, Bucky could have just left without a word or just said 'goodnight' and left it at that.. Halfway through unbuttoning his shirt he froze and realized that that meant they’d be riding most of the way together too, regardless of whatever the reason Bucky had asked was.

As Steve’s face planted on the lockers for the second time that night, Clint entered the room and groaned. “Oh great, what did you do now?”

“He wants to walk to the station together,” Steve’s cheeks against the cool metal. “What are we going to talk about?!”

“Dude I don’t know. The weather? If that dress was blue or gold? The very high chance that the guy wants in your pants and you’re pretty ok with that?”

Steve jumped away from the locker to whirl around at the bartender, horrified and embarrassed and angry all at once. “Oh my god! _Clint_!”

“What! You _asked_.”

Steve finally finished changing and grabbed his bag from his locker. He purposely ignored the other man when he walked to the door, wrenching it open.

 “Make good choices, Stevie!” Clint hollered.

 

He really hated Clint sometimes.

 

\---

 

Going outside, he found Bucky in his earlier spot next to the back door waiting patiently. _Cigarette-free_ , Steve noted. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, nearing him. Bucky pushed off the wall and they walked down the short alleyway towards the street when Steve noticed something.

“You leaving your tux here?”

“Yeah, Maria said it’d be fine since I have to come back tomorrow night. Said something about getting it cleaned too, a write-off.”

“Really?" Steve shifted the strap of his bag on his shoulder as they hit the main street from the alley.  "That’s cool.”

“Right?!” Bucky exclaimed. “Saves me the trouble, I’m all for it.”

 

It certainly felt better having someone to walk with at night, especially someone like Bucky-it was almost like having a bodyguard next to him, having the Train Bucky back. Not that Steve felt _unsafe_ walking back to the station after the night shift, but having company helped the parts of the street not lit up by street lights a little less intimidating.

“So how’d you think you did tonight? You like it?” Steve cleared his throat as they walked, reaching for some neutral conversation.

“Went well enough to be expected, got some decent tips," the brunette answered. "But between you and me…” Bucky leaned over close, as if someone was going to overhear in the nearly empty street, causing Steve to blink at the close proximity Bucky’s face was now to his own, lips near his ear and _oh lord he just licked his lips._

“That Logan guy is scary as hell, right?”

Steve didn't expect _that,_ and let out a hearty laugh almost stumbling as he struggled to walk next to Bucky.

“Like seriously, I almost pissed myself when he flung that door open!” Bucky exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “I mean, who does that?! He totally did it on purpose!”

“That would mean that Logan has a sense of humor,” Steve argued, having had removed his glasses in his giggle fit to wipe at his face.

“A really fucked up one,” Bucky grumbled. “I’m gonna get him back, you watch me.”

“Nice knowing you then, Buck.”

Bucky’s head tilted to him at the use of his name, and before Steve could wonder if it was alright to use his name like that after only really just having met him, the man’s face split into a grin and he continued on towards the upcoming stairs that led underground.

 

Reaching the turnstile, Steve placed his metro card in the slot as he walked through, a sharp beeping noise alerted that it’d been accepted. Bucky however, hopped over the barricade and landed nimbly on the other side. Steve stopped and looked at him, a small frown.

“Bucky,” Steve called out admonishingly.

“What?”

Steve crossed his arms, refusing to move another step and attempted to give him the sternest look he could muster-which was difficult, because the playful ‘aw shucks’ grin Bucky gave him obviously had been mastered when he was probably five and should have been a registered weapon.

“Oh come on Steve it’s the middle of the night, no one cares.”

Steve continued to give him the look.

Bucky heaved a heavy dramatic sigh. “Finnnne.” His entire body went slack as he playfully stomped back to the barricade, climbing over it again with a theatrical groan and then fishing out his own card to pop through the slot. After walking through the stile like a respectable person, he was still pouting and he stuck his tongue out at Steve. “Boy scout,”

Attempting to hide the grin that cracked his resolute icy stare by rolling his eyes, he knew it didn’t work as he spotted Bucky’s own lop-sided grin. Steve turned around to continue on walking. “Just hurry up, we're gonna miss the train.”

“Square!” Bucky teased out after him, quick footsteps as he caught up with Steve.

Steve at that point in the evening realized that nearly every doubt he had having to do with Bucky, this walk, had gone away. Who would have thought Bucky was so damn playful?

 

They boarded the train car quietly, the playful moment passing. Bucky’s legs were sprawled out from his seat as he leaned back, hands crammed into his pockets.

“So how’d you end up working there anyway? At the restaurant?” Bucky asked suddenly.

Steve glanced over at him, away from an advertisement for some hair product that was plastered to the wall of the car.  “A friend of mine, Peggy, worked there. I needed a job so she put in a good word with Bruce.”

“Lucky,” Bucky mused.

Steve snickered. “Yeah, Bruce hates interviewing people; he hired me on the spot.”

“I meant that you had a friend like that,” Bucky looked over at him, smiling warmly. “Not many nice people out there anymore you know? She must really think you're somethin' if she vouched for you like that. ”

Steve’s eyes widened at the.....compliment? Did Bucky just compliment him? He recovered quickly, nodding. “Yeah,” he grinned. "I guess she does. Never thought of it like that before." The rushing and clacking of the car filled the small silence, and the lights flicker for a second.  “And you?” Steve asked. “How’d you find out about your uh…interview?” Audition? Steve wasn’t sure which word was correct.

“A guy in an ensemble I’ve been playing with mentioned it,” he shrugged. “I’ve only been back in New York about a month so anything that I can get my name out there with is good by me, so I crashed it.”

Steve took in this new information. _Back_? Steve had just assumed that Bucky was a local, due to his accent and way her carried himself. Where had he been before New York then? And what did he mean, _get his name out there_? Before Steve could properly figure out how to ask these questions without seeming nosy, the train pulled to a stop. _His_ stop, he realized.

“Well, last on first off,” Bucky drawled as Steve stood up. “See you tomorrow?”

“I get off at six, so….” Steve said sheepishly, throwing a quick glance back to Bucky then turned beet red when he realized that Bucky’s eyes? Were not looking up at his face.

_The very high chance that the guy wants in your pants_

Knowing he’d been busted, Bucky didn’t hide anything as his gaze lazily dragged up to finally look at Steve’s face, eyebrow arched. He then gave Steve a shit-eating grin and a wiggle of his fingers.

“G’Night Stevie.”

“Goodnight,” Steve squeaked, that flustered and bumbling feeling from Tuesday came rushing back with a fiery vengeance at being outright ogled and he exited the car without looking back.

 

\---

 

By the time Steve got back to his simple and small studio apartment, it was a little after midnight. Toeing off his shoes and dumping his back next to the door, he went straight across the room to where his bed was and flopped down face first into the soft welcoming squishy pillow, recounting the evening events.

Then his phone chirped.

Groaning, Steve struggled to fish it from his pocket and blinked blearily at the screen.

Text: Natasha . Today 12:14a.m.

_[Tell. Me. Everything.]_

By the time Steve had finished telling his meddling friend the entire night’s events—and correcting her when she assumed Clint was a helpful as he told her he’d been—He had a dumb grin on his face and yeah, he was in trouble.

And it was entirely Bucky Barnes’ fault.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll have you know that I look damn good in a vest and it got me some sweet tips from some very thirsty businesswomen last night.”
> 
> The cashier checking them out flushed and looked up at Bucky, eyes flitting over him as she pretended to continue scanning the items. Steve didn’t blame her one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are still into this! 8D; 
> 
> Wasn't planning on posting again so soon but I figured this was ready, I'm bored but not bored enough to start the next chapter so why not :P
> 
>  
> 
> As always, let me know if I need to take the Red Pen of Doom to anything and don't murder me for taking creative license in certain places. :P *throws glitter* FICTION.

 

Saturday’s shift had passed by with nothing interesting. Steve had drug his feet though when he’d finished his shift that mid-afternoon, not that he was going to admit it to anyone. He sort of hoped Bucky would show up early, but realistically? There was no reason for him to come early and Steve realized lamely that he was just a glutton for punishment at this point. So Steve picked up some groceries for his weekend and headed home, planning to hunker down.

That was, until Natasha sent a text to him the next morning _telling_ _him_ , not asking, he noted with amusement, that he was going to come over to her and Clint’s place for a movie night. Like he was going to argue with her he smiled as he answered promptly. Especially not now since he had the story of Logan to tell and wondered what crazy backstory Clint and Sam could come up with involving _that._

The good thing about Sundays was that usually the subway was just a little less crowded. Grabbing a seat after he entered the car, Steve pulled his headphones out of his bag and plugged them in. The ride to Natasha and Clint’s was considerably longer than going to work and he’d prepared well for it, having at least three playlists to choose from that he’d made before leaving his place as well as a worn out paperback book that that he’d shoved in his pack on a whim.

Not a moment later, he felt a gentle tap on the plastic covering his right ear; He jerked in surprise, head snapping up ready to tear a bum a new one-because that had happened on more than one occasion; _no I don’t have any change-_ to see _Bucky_ hanging over him from the hand strap, smiling pleasantly.

Steve ripped the headphones from his ears, feeling his face heat up a little as he let himself smile widely in greeting, despite the butterflies in his stomach that the other man was causing.

“You don’t happen to be going to a movie night, are you?” Bucky asked without waiting for Steve to speak.

Steve knew the answer to his own question, but he blurted it out stupidly anyway. “How’d you know?”

The brunette plopped down next to him. “Natasha invited me last night after closing. I was hoping I’d run into you on the way.”

“Oh-oh really?”

Bucky winked and leaned back in his seat, settling in for the ride. “Yeah, saves me from getting lost and looking like an ass.”

“S’not that hard to find,” Steve assured timidly. “I’m sure you would have figured it out.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence Stevie, but I’m pretty hopeless when it comes to following and asking for directions,” Bucky chuckled in response.

After a few ticks of comfortable silence, Steve cleared his throat.

“So before….”Steve started carefully, unsure if he had any business asking. Bucky seemed to perk to attention at the tone, and gave the blonde his full attention. “You said you just got back to New York. What’d you do before that?”

“Oh!” Bucky let out a sharp laugh, as if he was expecting Steve to say something else. Before Steve could wonder too long on _what_ exactly Bucky was thinking he was going to say, he continued.

“I grew up in Brooklyn. Was here until a couple years ago, then I moved to L.A.”

“Los Angeles?” he repeated. "What was out there?”

“Work. Figured it was a good choice at the time.”

Steve frowned a little at the wording. “It wasn’t? A good choice, I mean.”

Bucky’s answer was vague as he didn’t look over at Steve. “Was for a while.”

Steve noted that Bucky’s jaw had clenched a little over the last few minutes as they discussed the topic and tried to switch it up. “Well, bet it’s a lot different than here,” Steve offered lightly with a smile. “Bet you’re glad to be back.”

“You have _no_ idea.”

The air had become rather tense. And while Steve knew very well it wasn’t him that Bucky was directing that feeling onto, not intentionally, it still was uncomfortable. So he again, tried to move it along.

“So uh….did you have family still here to move back to?”

Bucky shrugged, the tension seeming to lessen. His face definitely brightened up. “Yeah, my sister. She was stressing about our parent’s house being empty the last couple months and was nagging me to come back anyway. Plus she’s having another kid; I kinda want to be around for that.” He looked over at Steve, studying him for a minute. “What about you?”

“Nothing to tell, really,” Steve sighed. “I grew up here. Graduated, worked a few different places and well…” he gave Bucky a half smile. “You know the rest, I guess.”

“That’s it?” Bucky was incredulous. “Come on, Stevie, there’s gotta be more than _that._ ” he chastised teasingly and nudged him with his elbow, making Steve laugh.

“Well, my life’s not as exciting as a _musician’s_ ,” he mocked, smiling.

Bucky snorted, hand making ‘go on’ gesture as he shifted in his seat. “ _Excitement,”_ he scoffed. _“_ Steve I’m living in my parent’s old house that currently holds a piano, an entire state forest’s worth of sheet music and one lightbulb I move to whatever room I happen to be in.”

Steve cackled. “I don’t believe you.”

“Ok, so I have some dishes, a bunch of dust bunnies under my bed and a really sweet TV, too,” Bucky admitted. “But the lightbulb thing is true but only because I’ve been too lazy to go shopping. I was going to go today but movie night sounded way better.”

 

Five stops and one a lively debate on kindle versus physical books-thanks to Bucky noticing Steve’s beaten up paperback- later, they disembarked from the train and headed up the stairs to the street.

“Is there a store around their place?” Bucky asked as they climbed the stairwell.

“yeah, couple blocks off,” Steve answered before being forced to dodge around an incoming speed-walking businessman that clipped him on his way by and sent Steve falling if it weren’t for Bucky’s quick reaction to grab onto his should to steady him.

“’Excuse me’ goes along way, asshole!” Bucky shouted after the guy, turning and giving the back of the guy’s head a hard glare.

“Buck, its fine,” Steve was mortified at the suddenly yelling Bucky, the way it echoed off the stairwell calling attention to them. “No it wasn’t Steve, fuck that guy,” Bucky growled. “You ok?”

Steve was a little floored at the display of protection but desperately tried to diffuse the situation. “I’m fine,” he assured; he could just envision Bucky going after that guy and demanding an apology and it really wouldn’t have been worth it. Steve was used to getting shoved and tossed around, especially on the subway.

Steve tugged on Bucky’s sleeve, trying to pull him up the stairs. “Why do you want to go to the store?”

Bucky looked reluctant to let it go. But he did, and glanced at Steve’s hand. “You can help me pick out some beer to bring over. I have a feeling if I bring something bad Clint will never let me live it down.”

Steve chuckled, letting him go when he started to move. “Yeah he’d be pretty sore at you if you brought Coors Light.”

 

 

Steve had lost Bucky about halfway through the store, and finally spotted him in the small children’s toy section looking at plastic figures of various animals. As he approached, Bucky was holding and studying intensely a small dinosaur—a stegosaurus, if Steve’s boyhood obsession with the creatures was anything to go by.

“Getting something for you sister’s kid?” Steve smiled. He didn’t know if Bucky had a niece or a nephew, he’d neglected to ask that. Not that dinosaurs were inherently a boy thing.

Bucky almost looked almost insulted. “That little princess is totally spoiled as it is. I’m getting this for _me_.”

Well that solved the ‘niece or nephew’ mystery.

Then…. _wait._

“You’re gonna buy it…for you.” Steve said slowly.

“Don’t judge me Steve, me and Clarence here have a bond.”

“Clarence?” Steve stared at him incredulously as he wondered how the hell Bucky was even real. A tall imposing guy dressed like an upscale version of The Ramones, being in the toy aisle and naming a plastic dinosaur?

“What?” Bucky asked as if he were concerned on the dinosaur’s behalf. “You don’t think he looks like a Clarence?”

Steve’s face broke out into a crooked grin as he looked at Bucky, shaking his head. “You’re weird.”

Bucky pretended to sniff. “I’ll have you know that Clarence and I will be very happy together.”

“I’m sure you will be, Buck,” Steve nodded seriously.

Bucky snickered as he dropped the dinosaur into his basket. “C’mon, let’s find the beer.”

 

 

“This is a lot, are you sure?” Steve glanced at the full handbasket he’d placed on the checkout counter, filled with random snacks and candy-most having been approved by Steve as favorites of their soon-to-be-hosts and well as himself and anyone else that might show up; not to mention the case of specialty beer Bucky was carrying along with him that was one of Natasha’s favorites.

“Steve, its fine,” Bucky assured for the third time as he placed Clarence on the conveyor belt first, ensuring he was going to come home with him. “I’ll have you know that I look damn good in a vest and it got me some sweet tips from some very thirsty businesswomen last night.”

The cashier checking them out flushed and looked up at Bucky, eyes flitting over him as she pretended to continue scanning the items. Steve didn’t blame her one bit. Seeing Bucky in a tux last time was enough to almost send him into a seizure, but a dress vest over that torso? _And if Buck_ _had rolled the sleeves up on his shirt-_ -

Bucky was still talking.

“…and then at the end of the night, one of them totally nailed ‘ _What Do I Do?_ ’ thanks to yours truly,” he winked.

“Well I’m sorry I missed it,” Steve smiled as Bucky turned to pay the girl.

 

They left the store with a brown bag in each their arms. Steve hugged his to his chest tightly as they walked the last two blocks to Clint and Natasha’s while Bucky was actually going over his receipt, much to Steve’s surprise.

The brunette let out a sharp laugh and began to nearly cackle as they stopped at the intersection to wait for the light. “Dude, look-“he held out the receipt to show Steve, and written near the top of it was a phone number and a “ _call me ;)_ ” next to it.

“That was so smooth, I didn’t even see her do it!” Bucky continued, laughing.

Steve swallowed. “You gonna call her?” he asked casually. “She was cute.” and she really had been, Steve wasn’t trying to be bitter about it; but he was jealous that the girl had more courage than him.

“Eh,” Bucky shrugged, moving forward as the walking signal changed, and with his one hand he crumbled the paper in his fist and chucked it into a trashcan they passed. “I think I’d much rather get your number, Stevie.”

Steve stopped dead in his tracks as he watched Bucky walk a few paces, then turn around when he realized that Steve wasn’t next to him anymore.

“Really?” Steve heard himself ask. _Bucky actually wanted his number?_

“Well yeah,” Bucky grinned at him. “I noticed you on the train a couple weeks ago. Then I noticed _you_ noticing _me._ And since you were too chicken to try somethin’, I did. And you didn’t haul off and slap me in the face so...”

“Try something?” Steve repeated dumbly, puzzled as he tried to rack his brain to find something obvious; other than the flirting Bucky seemed to do with nearly everyone and not just him, anyway.

That morning on the train came rushing back to him.

Steve’s eyes narrowed accusingly at Bucky, lips in a tight line as he gave his best to frown. “You fell asleep on me on purpose, didn’t you.”

Bucky had the decency to look at least a little sheepish as he held his free hand up, thumb and index finger a half inch apart, slowly grinning again when he realized he wasn’t being accepted poorly by confessing.

Sighing, Steve rolled his eyes, moving forward again. “You’re such a jerk.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining, punk,” Bucky sniggered as he caught up with him. 

When they turned the corner to walk down the street Nat and Clint’s building was on, Bucky spoke up again.

“Soo… are you gonna give me your number?”

“Later,” Steve chided playfully to hide the way he wanted to bury his face into the bag he was carrying. “I have my arms full here.”

“Yesssss,” Bucky’s fist punched the air lightly, making the blonde chuckle as he spotted a familiar figure standing halfway down the block.

“Hey, looks like Sam got invited too,” He jerked his chin to point it out to Bucky.

“Hey Steve, James,” Sam greeted as they neared, reaching out and giving Bucky’s free hand a firm shake, taking the bag from him. “Natasha wanted me to wait out front so you’d find the place easier. Guess I didn’t need to,” he grinned knowingly over at Steve.

Oh, so Clint had blabbed to Sam. _Great. Just great_.

 

When they entered the apartment, they were greeted warmly as they shed their coats and shoes. Sam and Clint instantly nabbed Bucky to come help with DVD selection, while Steve and Natasha headed to the kitchen.

“I think Sam knows and _how does Sam know?_ ” Steve demanded at her as they were out of earshot.

Natasha didn’t look up from the bag she was emptying, glancing at each item. “Because Clint is a gossip. There’s even a betting pool going at work; Stark got pretty into it when he heard about it.”

Steve groaned and plopped down on a stool, placing his elbows on the countertop as he watched her inspect the loot they’d gotten from the store. “So he asked me for my number.”

Natasha made a small noise in her throat of approval. “And you gave it to him, _right?”_

“Not yet, I-“

“ _Steve.”_ Man if he didn’t know that Natasha was trying to be supportive, he would have thought her threatening. “Let me finish!” Steve leaned back, away from her pointed glare. _Why did they have to have this conversation while Nat was near knives_? Thank god the island was between them.

Her eyebrow ticked up at him and she waited.

“I literally hand my hands full, he asked on the way down the street!” he hissed quietly, glancing to the living room and was relieved that Bucky Sam and Clint were still out there. “I figured I’d give it to him later when we left or something.”

“Or something,” Natasha repeated. And then she thought of something. “You guys are gonna leave together later?” her mouth ticked into a little smirk.

“Nat,” Steve glared. “Not what you think.”

“Why not?” She teased. “He’s into you, you’re into him…”

“I _meant_ that since we ride the same line back to Brooklyn, we’re more than likely going to leave at the same time!” he struggled to keep his voice from getting too high.

Natasha’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Lighten up Steve. He likes you and he seems really ni-what the? “She stopped, and then pulled her arm out of the bag, holding something; Clarence. She threw a puzzled look between Steve and the little plastic dinosaur.

Steve sighed. “That’s Clarence.”

“You _named_ it?”

“ _Bucky_ named it,” Steve corrected her as she placed the little guy down on the counter.

“Bucky?”

“It’s like…his nickname.”

Natasha let out a small laugh. “Huh. Cute.”

Steve grabbed the toy up and stood, shaking his head as he went out to the living room to give Bucky his toy.   

 

“Bucky,” Steve got the brunette’s attention as he entered the room, holding up the figure. Bucky’s eyes widened in realization that he’d left it in the bag.

“Bucky?” Sam and Clint asked in unison, looking up from the piles of DVDs they were pawing through.

“My middle name is Buchanan. So people call me Bucky,” he explained with a wave of his hand as he stood to step over the coffee table to get to Steve, obviously having had to explain it more than once to people. “You’re welcome to, if you want.”

“Bucky it is then,” Clint declared.

“Wait, hold up hold up,” Sam threw his hand in the air, and then pointed. **“** Is that a _dinosaur?”_

“Yep."

“That is so fucking awesome!” Clint was practically _sparkling_ with excitement as he grabbed up Clarence from Bucky’s offered hand.

Bucky seemed to share the bartender's excitement. “Right!? The store a couple blocks over had them.”

“What! I’m so getting one, this is cool!” Clint threw his head over to the kitchen. “Nat! I wanna get a dinosaur!”

“I heard,” Natasha called dryly from the entryway of the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with a beer in her hand. “You guys are lucky you’re cute, otherwise this would be _really_ sad.”

The three grown men made disgruntled booing noises at her, Clint going so far to throw a wadded up napkin at her that Steve expertly dodged.

 

_______________________

 

On the ride home, Bucky had been relatively quiet. Steve had chalked it up to being tired and maybe one too many beers. In the few hours that they’d been at Clint and Natasha’s apartment they’d done everything from ordering pizza, making another beer run on which Clint got his dinosaur, a Tyrannosaurus Rex which he dubbed “Howard” and goaded Natasha to the point where she grabbed a Velociraptor and named it Nishka just to shut him up, watched two movies and then played a side-splitting game of _Cards Against Humanity_ that somehow Sam won despite the hilariously gross and perverted cards Clint managed to play.

It wasn’t until later, after Steve had bid Bucky a tired-and shy-for Bucky made good on Steve’s promise to give him his number and he didn’t even try to hide his elation, goodnight as he exited the train that the reason Bucky had been so quiet? Wasn’t _the_ reason Steve had thought.

 

“Steve! Steve!”

Steve groaned, rubbing his forehead as he looked over to his bedside clock. The numbers glowed 2:40.

“Are you _high_?”

“What! No, I’m drunk! Kind of.”

“Oh gee, that’s loads better,” Steve rolled his eyes and slumped back into his bed.

Bucky rambled on, not hearing him. “Ok so I was thinking. You know, Clint told me him and Sam’s theory about that guy Loki. I can totally fucking see it and now I can’t _unsee_ it!”

Steve laughed, coming out of his sleep state, annoyance slowly dissipating. “You shouldn’t be worried about that,” he tried to calm the man down. He could just see Bucky flailing around and gesturing wildly.

“I’m not worried about it for _me,_ you dipshit!” Bucky screeched. “Blood of _virgins_ , Steve! Why are _you_ not worried more about this?!”

“Because I’m not a virgin?” Steve blurted out in laughter. The man was being ridiculously cute and- _oh shit he did not just say that._

The other end of the line went silent for a long moment.

“Oh _reaalllly…._ ”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“No! No no no, Steve _don’t_ hang up, I’m seriously freaking out over here.”

Steve winced. “…about _what,_ exactly?”

“The reason I called you for!”

“….and that was…?”

“That stupid movie you assholes made me watch!” Bucky exclaimed, as if Steve should have been perfectly aware of it.

 _“Ok! We’re gonna watch the cinematic 1982 masterpiece,_ The Thing _!” Sam announced as the DVD started to run._

_Bucky looked confused. “…What thing?”_

_“_ The Thing, _man! John Carpenter, Kurt Russell?” Sam gave him a dubious look. “You’ve never seen it?”_

_“Nope, guess I haven’t,” Bucky gave a little shrug as he popped another chip into his mouth._

Bucky continued to rant. “I can’t even open my cabinets right now without worrying some weird spider-crab thing is going to attack me! When I started turning off all the lights –“

“Wait, so you bought lightbulbs?” Steve cut in with a snigger, remembering their conversation from earlier that day.

“You’re damn right I did! Before I got home I stopped at the corner market and do you know how much those capitalizing jerks charge for four freakin’ lightbulbs?!”

_Who would have thought that Bucky Barnes was scared of horror movies?_

“You could have just _said_ you didn’t want to watch it, Buck.”

“And looked like a baby are you kidding me? Barton would never have let me live it down!”

“Well you’re right about that,” Steve agreed. “But it was so cheesy! _Eighties_ cheesy! Next you’re going to tell me that _Sharknado_ scared you.” Steve laughed.

Bucky had fallen silent on the other end and Steve thought the worst, worrying that maybe he’d fallen and slipped, passed out or something and horrific scenarios were going through his mind.

“…Bucky?” he called worriedly. “You still there?”

“Stevie, a Sharknado could potentially be a very serious problem why are you even kidding about that?”

Groaning, Steve flung his arm out onto the bed, holding the phone away from his face. How was Bucky Barnes even real?

“Steve!” he heard the tinny voice on the other then. He placed he phone back to his ear with a curt sigh.

“What.”

“What are you feelings on zombies?”

“Zombies? Buck its 2 a.m. and you want to talk about _zombies_ now?” Steve sputtered.

“Zombies are just like, people!” Bucky blurted out into his ear. “You know? I don’t know why people freak out about them.”

“Bucky they are- _were_ people, but –“he stopped himself. _What the hell as he saying_. “You’re being ridiculous. Just leave the lights on and go to bed.”

“You wound me with your lack of sympathy,” the man on the other end said dramatically.

“I had plenty of sympathy for you during this conversation until the Sharknado part,” Steve grunted, yawning and fighting to keep his eyes open. “Why don’t you just get Clarence to protect you until morning?” he said patronizingly with an eye roll as he remembered the small dinosaur; if Bucky was acting like kid, maybe he could be reasoned with like one.

Bucky giggled suddenly on the other end. “Man you really are a sassy little shit under all that cute, arentcha?”

Steve made a strangled noise in his throat and Bucky obviously had heard it. “That’s right, I said it Rogers. You are really fucking cute. Now you better hope to God that Clarence here can fend off a bloodthirsty alien so I can tell you that in person later.”

Then Bucky hung up, leaving Steve lying in his bed, stunned. Then a goofy grin cracked out over his face and he threw his phone back onto his nigh table, rolled over and went back to sleep.

Steve didn’t mind so much, being in trouble.

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Pools?”Steve emphasized the plural with disbelief. “Why are there pools?”
> 
> “How much you think I can say until it becomes sexual harassment?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There should have been a post a couple days ago, but I got really sick. :( sorry guys 
> 
>  
> 
> I hope this doesn't seem rushed. This chapter was originally going to hold a lot more, but between wanting to post something for you guys since its almost been a week, proving that I could pick it up again after being out of it for a few days and that I could stretch out this story a little longer if I cut it where I did I figured eh, why not! So here's a quick update that progresses the story a little with some cute shit. Hope this is ok for you and tides you over until next time. (like really this said my word count was about the same as my last chapter but I dunno, seems awful short to me...)
> 
> also, holy crap, I thought people weren't so into this anymore and that last chapter bumped up with the kudos and the bookmarks and the views like woah 0_o;; (because OCD me totally checks the stats) you guys are awesome, thank you! I'm super happy you're all in enjoying the fluffy shit my brain has come up with and you're sticking it out with me :)v
> 
> As always, creative license, don't eat me. See something for the Red Pen of Doom, tell me. ;)v

**Tuesday morning**

 

As Steve walked into the kitchen to begin morning tasks he spotted Tony Stark, the owner of _Bouclier_ , leaning over a counter on his elbows talking to Loki.

A very, very, unamused Loki.

“… If I was Stark, I would obviously have no interest in _you_ ,” Loki’s voice floated out dryly.

“Ohhoho, so you _are_ interested in me!”

Steve cringed, hurrying along quietly and grabbing the rolling cart to bring out to the dining room. Like hell he was going to get caught in the crossfire. Tony was crazy. Suicidal, even.

There was a heavy sigh from Loki. “Go away.”

Ok, Crazy _and_ suicidal. Officially noted.

Tony scoffed up at the taller man. “Oh come on, don’t- Hey Steve!”

Damn. Busted.

Steve kept moving. “Morning Tony,” he smiled weakly, throwing a greeting glance at Loki who, if looks could kill? Steve would be bleeding from every hole in his head—and it wasn’t even directed at him.

Tony carried on as if he didn’t see a thing from the looming chef on the other side of the counter. “So have you and piano man smooched? Gone on a date? Better yet-done it? I got fifty bucks riding on this thing.”

Steve sputtered, running into the edge of the counter causing it to rattle sharply. He gaped at the man, and then at Loki, completely mortified but not really surprised because _Tony Stark_. And well, Natasha _had_ given him fair warning. “How-why would you think that-“

“Like you need the money anyway, Stark,” Loki sighed, throwing Steve a sympathetic-laced look. _Shut up before you say something stupid,_ it seemed to say.Helpful? Or maybe Loki was in on the betting too!? Steve didn’t know who he could trust anymore. Not that he ever really trusted Loki.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Tony scoffed, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter. Which was stupid because Loki had a murderous glint in his eye and he had _knives_ and _why the hell was Tony so dumb to show is back to that?!_

“We have several pools going right now,” Tony argued. “I just wanna know which ones we can tick off here to save some time.”

“ _Pools?_ ”Steve emphasized the plural with disbelief. “Why are there _pools?”_

“Well because it’s broken down into --” He glanced at Loki, who had returned to mincing ingredients. “How much you think I can say until it becomes sexual harassment?”

“Like you’re worried about such a thing,” Loki answered with slight exasperation under his muttered breath, barely audible over the strict tapping of the knife.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Steve took that as his cue to slink away quietly, pulling the cart along with him as he listened to them.

“Just--get out of my kitchen, Stark.”

“But-“

Then Tony coughed sharply, clearing his throat. Loki had done something, but Steve had just pushed through the door so it was too late to see what exactly it had been.

Tony was a little too chipper and congenial after that. “Well I should let you get back to work,”

“Smartest thing you’ve said all morning.”

 

 

Sadly for Steve, it didn’t end there as Tony followed him out onto the floor, fleeing from Loki.

“You guys even go on a date yet?” Tony prodded, leaning against one of the tables and rumpling the white cloth that covered it. “C’mon Steve, you can tell me.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” Steve said stiffly, slowly overcoming the embarrassment and getting just plain aggravated at the man now. If Loki would have stabbed him or something he wouldn’t have said a word. _oh yeah, Mr. Stark’s great guy. I haven’t seen him today though, could be anywhere really…_

Tony held up his hands in surrender. “Ok, fine. But is that because you’re just pissed at me right now or because nothing’s happened yet?”

Before Steve could answer, Natasha appeared out of _nowhere_ right next to Stark. “Quit bugging Steve and get your ass off the table.”

Tony jumped as if stuck with a pin. “Jesus Romanov, how do you _do_ that?”

“You’re completely oblivious to your surroundings most of the time,” She flashed him a fake sweet smile as she moved around the cart. “It’s easy.”

The man huffed, crossing his arms and grumbling. “Am not.”

“Are too,” A voice spoke over his shoulder.

Tony spun around and Steve swore he heard him _squeak_ -Bruce, the manager, was standing there, looking awfully pleased it himself as Steve and Natasha sniggered.

 

After Bruce had dragged Tony off to the office, Natasha started off innocently enough.

“So how was the rest of your weekend?” She asked putting the water glasses out as Steve covered the silverware.

“Good, caught up on some stuff. You guys?”

“About the same.”

There was a few moments of quietly setting tables then she spoke again. “You give him your number?”

Steve moved the cart onto the next table and shot her a small grin. “Yep.”

“And? Did he call?”

“Yep. That night.”

“Oh really?” She looked up at him, a smirk and a raised brow. “That’s fast.”

“Wasn’t exactly what you think it was..”

Natasha let out a bawdy laugh as Steve told her the entire conversation. “This guy is awesome,” She continued to chuckle even though he’d finished. Glancing at the kitchen door to make sure no one had entered, she eyed him again. “So has he asked you out yet?”

“Nat he _just_ got my number,” Steve gave her a look. “And it’s not like there’s been time anyway. He does other stuff besides just work here on the weekends.” He did, too. From what Steve understood from the few conversations that it had come up in, even though he’d only been back a little over a month Bucky was involved in more than one ensemble or project thanks to friends and acquaintances when they’d learned he was back in town. It kept him busy, Bucky had said, but the pay was pretty low since most of his work was under the table. Steve never had the courage or felt the right to ask why he wasn’t so worried about income quite yet. It really wasn’t any of his business and if Bucky was fine with it what did it matter?

“Enough time for him to call you and cry about aliens under his sink,” She tsked. “He could have asked you this morning.”

“I didn’t see him this morning. He has an appointment later that he said he had to prepare for.”

“Laaaame,” Natasha sing-songed as she moved to the next table.

 

 

 

During Steve’s last break, he checked his phone to find a message from Bucky.

_Text: Bucky 5:32p.m [Can you do me a favor?]_

[sure]

Steve’s phone rang not two minutes after that, Bucky’s name popping up on the screen. Steve smiled and answered it.

“Hey.”

 _“Hey! Steve!”_ Bucky was obviously on the street somewhere, background filled with voices and cars and honking.

“What’s the favor?”

 _“I got asked to play at a wedding reception later, but I don’t have time to run to the restaurant, grab my tux, get back at my place befor my ride gets there_ and _be dressed and packed up. Could you drop it by on your way home-- if it’s not too much trouble?”_ Bucky gave a rushed explanation, a little breathless but Steve chalked part of that up to that he was probably speed walking wherever he was.

“Sure Buck, I can do it.”

“ _You’re a life saver Steve. I’ll text you my address OK?”_

“Sure thing. I’ll see you then.”

 

Steve was on pins and needles the remainder of his shift when he realized that he was going to be _seeing where Bucky lived_. He’d never really thought about it before; and on checking his phone when he was changing to leave, Steve realized the address? Wasn’t exactly in a bad place. And he _really_ realized it when he was walking down the street full of relatively nice townhouses, the dry clean-bagged suit hanging over his shoulder as he peered at the numbers. He had text Bucky when he’d gotten off the train and the other had responded that he’d leave the door unlocked for him in case he didn’t hear the bell.

The correct number belonged to a two story red bricked home with large front windows and Steve climbed the set of stairs to ring the bell. After waiting a few minutes, Steve tried the handle and yep, it was unlocked. Stepping inside, he realized that Bucky hadn’t been kidding about the bare necessities in his place. The hardwood floors were polished and dust-free, but empty. And while the place as pretty big it made it seem enormous and hollow.

“…Bucky?” he called out.

“Be down in a sec Steve!” he heard Bucky’s voice come from down the staircase, and then a door shut after that.

Locking the door behind him, Steve walked around the living room. Instead of the usual furniture it was serving as Bucky’s studio; a large grand was placed in the center, sheet music and file folders were everywhere in what seemed to him like chaos, but probably to Bucky it was all on purpose.

The paint job was warm and the curtains that were on the widows-that obviously originally weren’t Bucky’s- were clean, and white with lace. The wood staircase and the molding matched and looked to be part of the original house, if Steve knew much about architecture and decorating. _Bucky had said that this house had been his parent's, right?_

Steve walked over to the piano and noted that Clarence was placed next to the stack of papers that was still propped up. He smirked, picking up the little plastic figure and studying it for a moment before placing it back and moving onto a nearby heavy rather ornate dining room table that had been probably dragged in from the dinging room. Ink pens, pencils, blank papers and papers with ledgers written only half way down the page, filled in with notes and symbols that Steve had no guess to what some of them meant. Carefully looking at the pages without disrupting the order, there were large sections that were untouched but other parts, entire lines were scribbled out almost viciously.

He heard footsteps coming down the stairs quickly and Bucky entered the room wearing sweats and a tee, rubbing a towel over his head. “Sorry,” he tugged the towel around his neck. “Thanks so much Steve, I know it was out of your way.”

“It was only one extra stop, no big deal,” Steve shrugged, swallowing a little as he took in the freshly showered and shaved Bucky. His hair was sticking up in odd directions and his skin was still a fair tinted shade of pink---and he was totally staring and it was totally obvious by the way Bucky’s mouth tugged into a grin. Bucky reached out to take the tux, Steve handed it to him, clearing his throat.

“So you compose?” Steve motioned to the papers on the table.

“Yeah,” Bucky gave a half smile, eyes glancing over them, something flashing through them that Steve couldn’t quite pin down. “That’s what I did back in L.A.”

Steve blinked, floored. “Really? You wrote professionally?”

“The guy I wrote for was a complete dick though. Took a lot of the enjoyment outta it.”

“Wrote for?” Steve repeated, frowning.

“You don’t think everyone writes their own music even if they say they do, do you?”

“Well no,” Steve had heard scandals here and there about some pop star lying about a song, or even a team writing for one singular person. “Were you like what, a ghost writer or something?”

“Basically.”

“So….you just let someone else take credit for your work?” Steve asked slowly, not really fully understanding. How was that fair?

“Just how it’s done a lot of the time,” Bucky shrugged. “To be honest I sort of got taken for a ride and got stuck in it. The paycheck blinded me for awhile, then I wised up and got out. End of story.”

It couldn’t possibly be, Steve knew. Especially if the way Bucky’s shoulders had tensed and the fixed almost _glare_ he was looking at the table with was anything to go by.

Steve didn’t push it.

Bucky snapped back into reality, and looked back at Steve. “Hey listen, let me go get changed. Don’t go anywhere ok? I’ll be fifteen minutes, tops.”

Steve gave him a smile, grateful that they were moving on. “Sure Buck.”

 

When Bucky came back down, he was dressed and styled with his jacket draped over one arm as he reentered the piano-living room, scent of cologne floating in after him. Steve had been sitting on the window seat, having pulled back the curtains to look outside. It kept him from getting into trouble, curious nature itching to go poke around the first floor while Bucky was changing. He _had_ glanced into the kitchen, which was almost just as bare as the rest of the place seemed, but it was clean and spotless with clean dishes sitting in the drain.

“Do you wanna go do something on Sunday?” Bucky asked without preamble as he moved around the room, picking up certain sets of music, setting some down and picking some up after a moment of consideration before pushing them neatly into his satchel.

Steve was caught off guard by the sudden question but elated, because _finally_.

“Sure!” he said, quickly recovering and grinning at the other as he stood up from the window seat. He didn’t bother trying to hide the creeping excitement that was building in his nerves. “Like what?”

His smile must have been infectious because Bucky gave him a grin that matched his own, scratching the back of his head. “I dunno. I’m sort of bad at picking spots for dates. I mean-“he stopped. “Well yeah no, It’s a date, unless…you don’t _want_ it to be a date...” He trailed off, grinning knowingly.

“It can totally be a date,” Steve said firmly, chin out a little and not buying into the façade the other was presenting.

There was a horn honking outside and Bucky rolled his eyes with a huff. “And that’s my ride. God those guys know how to ruin a moment.”

“What? W-Were we having a moment, Buck?” Steve pretended to be confused.

Bucky looked indignant for a minute before he clamped his mouth shut and he peered down at Steve. “You know what, Rogers? You’re lucky you’re so damn cute.”

Steve felt his face burning as Bucky snickered, the horn honking again.

Bucky jerked his head to the front door. “C’mon punk. I gotta go.”

 

 

 

  **Thursday afternoon**

 

_[How about the zoo?]_

[That’s fine :) ]

_[Steve you can’t say ‘that’s fine :)’ to everything I suggest.]_

Steve sniggered in his seat on the train, heading back home after work. Since Tuesday, Bucky had been sending random texts with random places and things to do for Sunday. Even though Steve swore that anything Bucky came up with-since _he_ was the one ask Steve out _he_ should be the one to pick out what to do-would be absolutely fine.

[Well maybe I want to do all of those things]

[ _we can’t fit the zoo, the museum and the aquarium in one date]_

Thinking for a minute on the way up the stairs to the street, Steve decided to become brave and he ticked out the response text.

[who said anything about just one date?]

He pressed send before he could chicken out.

Bucky didn’t answer right away and Steve started to get worried. Of course, any number of things could have prevented the other from answering. Paying for something at the store, getting onto the train and losing a signal, walking to wherever he was going-

His phone rang in his hands, startling Steve and nearly dropping it; Bucky’s name was on the screen.

Cringing a little, he took a small breath and answered the phone. “Yeah Buck?”

“ _Steve_ ,” the man’s voice came over the receiver seriously, _too_ seriously and Steve was almost ready to have a panic attack, dreading what was coming next.

“ _You can’t just_ say _something like that! I almost fell down the stairs!”_

Letting out a relieved laugh, Steve continued walking down the street to his building, not even realizing he’d stopped when he’d answered the phone. “Sorry, I didn’t think it was a safety hazard,” he rolled his eyes, the adrenaline giving him a little high as he entered the door of his building.

Bucky made a noise in his throat; it sounded like a ‘tch, yeah right’ over the phone to Steve.

“ _So. You wanna go out on more than one date,_ ”Bucky drawled.

“Yeah Buck.” Steve was climbing the stairs up to his floor now.

“ _Well then_ ,” the voice on the other end brightened. “ _Planning for Sunday just got easier_! “

Steve was at his door now, unlocking it. “What? How?”

“ _I don’t have to try so hard!_ ”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“ _What! That is like, the whole point of a date, to see if we’re going to go out again. If I already know you’re gonna go out with me again then there is nooooo pressure_ ,” he teased. Steve wondered if Bucky was relieved under all that snark. Scaredy cat, composer, charming gentleman, playful dork who hangs out in toy aisles and all-out _cheeseball,_ Bucky Barnes.

“I take it back, you’re gonna have to work for it,” Steve responded dryly, letting humor slip into his tone so as to not be misunderstood. Smirking at the chocked noise that came from the receiver, he kicked the door shut behind him with his foot.

“And you better make it good, Barnes. I expect a decision when I see you tomorrow night at the restaurant.”

Steve then promptly hung up, wondering how bad of a heart attack Bucky Barnes was having on the other end of the line.

 

 


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Since when is the chef a doctor?!” Bucky’s voice was a little high with worry, and it made their eavesdropping driver laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo, update! been sitting on this a couple days, I think this is all I can do with it right now. I'm not 100% on some parts but ITS BEEN A WEEK. HERE. *SHOVES AT YOU* Hopefully you guys like it! 8Dv I think I've been staring at it too long to the point where everything looks stupid or weird.
> 
> I also got a vote last time for making that playlist, soooo [here you go](http://8tracks.com/redroses1791/6-45-to-midtown)
> 
> Bad thing about 8tracks is even if i do put it all in some sort of order, next listen through it just gets mixed up so i'll let you figure out what should go where.  
> Among the piano tracks that I kept in mind that Bucky would be playing, there's a bunch of tracks that either remind me of this story somehow, would totally be on the soundtrack if it were a movie or that one of the boys would more than likely have on their playlists. So hopefully you all dig that. and stuff. 8D;
> 
> **This mix will probably be added to as everything goes along but i'll repost the link and mention it if i do that. :)v

 

**Friday evening**

 

The dinner hour was in full gear, the tables of the dining room filled. The bar was hopping and Clint looked as if he barely had moment between people, let alone the orders Steve and the other waiters brought over to him. Bucky had arrived promptly at eight, seating himself at the piano and was playing smooth mellow music that flowed over the entire place.

Not a bad night, really. The air was a stuffy kind of warm when Steve went out back to take his first break, grateful for the moment’s peace. Bucky was already there with a glass of water in his hand and a roll in the other.

“Did you pilfer that from the kitchen?” Steve pursed his lips and eyed the roll.

Bucky shrugged. “Logan wasn’t lookin’.” He took a large bite as if to spite the chef.

Shaking his head, Steve leaned back against the wall next to him. Bucky said something else but it was garbled and full of bread; Steve only caught every other word as he could only stare at the other, thoroughly entertained.

“I’m sorry Buck, I didn’t _quite_ catch that.”

“I _said,_ ” Bucky swallowed the mouthful. “That I’ve got an idea for Sunday.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve grinned cheekily.

“Yup,” Bucky looked pretty pleased with himself. “Sunday is officially taken care of.” He popped the last bit of the roll into his mouth.

Curious excitement rushed through Steve. “Are you gonna tell me what it is?”

“Nope, gotta build up the suspense. Since you know, _I gotta work for it now,_ ” he threw him pouty glare that made Steve chuckle.

“Well I’m looking forward to it then.”

Bucky nodded and they sat there quietly for a moment. “Hey Steve. I just thought of something.”

Steve’s head rolled over to look at him. “Yeah? What’s that.”

“....what if Logan saw me and he’s like…laying it wait on the other side of the door?”

Steve rolled his eyes and threw a pen at lightly at Bucky’s face before getting up to go back inside. “My break’s over. I’ll see you at closing.”

“Good idea, you go first. Cough once if he’s there.”

Steve said nothing as he opened the door.

“Steve, you’d let me know right?”

The door clicked shut.

“Steve?!”

 

 

It had been an hour after coming back from break when Steve noticed a small disturbance going on at the front of the restaurant.

Maria, the hostess on duty for the evening, was attempting to stop a man at the podium who was trying to enter the main dining room. The man was no one extraordinary-looking, Steve probably couldn’t tell him apart from any other business man that came in; run of the mill dark navy blue suit, generic tie and in his late thirties to early forties, average build. Steve watched Maria tell him something sharply but he pushed her aside, nearly sending her crashing into a table.

Anger climbed up Steve’s back and he swallowed, darting a glance around the patrons. No one had seemed to really notice anything amiss yet, and Steve meant to keep it that way; the less of a disturbance the better. That was the plan until the man marched over to a table that Steve had been waiting on most of the evening that was currently seating a man and younger woman, and began yelling at them.

The suit’s voice boomed over the room, the quiet conversations that had been humming now falling silent at the scene taking place. Even Bucky had stopped playing, but Steve didn’t take his eyes off the altercation as he strode towards them. The man continued to yell obscenities, mainly at the poor frightened woman, looming and pointing at her and then at the man, who began to yell back at him.

Steve clenched his jaw, glaring at the back of the man’s skull as he stopped behind him.

“Sir.”

The man continued to berate the woman, ignoring him. So Steve tried again

“ _Sir_!”

The man finally noticed him only to look at him with a sneer of distaste, which didn’t help quell Steve’s anger one bit.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Fuck off, kid. This isn’t any of your business.” The man reached down to violently grip the woman’s arm, yanking her out of her seat and nearly to the floor.

Steve didn’t know exactly what he was thinking—he probably wasn’t thinking—and he grabbed the guy’s shoulder to pull him off. Probably not the smartest thing to do, Steve realized a little too late as the man’s free hand came rushing up to meet his face in a good solid hit.

The restaurant that had been so quiet let out a collective gasp and as Steve’s body twisted oddly, stumbling back then crashing to the floor. Stunned, he was only vaguely aware through his woozy state that someone stepped around him and up to the man, a struggle happening and the guy was shouting again. Steve pulled his askew glasses off his face, watching with watery eyes the lower halves of the grappling figures moving towards the door, bumping into tables and sending patrons scrambling out of the way.

“Steve!” Someone was helping him up sit up; Clint. “Steve are you ok man?”

He groaned, wincing as his lip and cheek throbbed. “I’ve been a lot better.”

“You’re so stupid but damn that looked awesome,” the bartender laughed shakily, taking Steve’s glasses from him and carefully folding them up.

Steve didn’t even want to know if he meant him standing up to that guy and defending the woman, or that the punch and Steve being sent back about a foot from the blow. Probably a bit of both, knowing Clint Barton.

Clint hauled him up and as soon as Steve put weight onto his ankle, he groaned against the new thrum of pain that was now shooting into his calf. How the hell did he manage to twist his ankle, too?! Wiping absent-mindedly at his nose with his sleeve, Clint hooked his arms around his shoulders. When Steve pulled his arm down he found his cuff was covered in blood. _Perfect._ Twisted ankle, busted lip, possible black eye and bleeding nose. All from one punch. Steve was more embarrassed about that than anything else- at least the few times he’d gotten beat up in high school, the guys had at least gotten more than _one hit_ in.

When they entered the kitchen, the entire room froze for a moment in surprise at the sight. The hissing and sizzling of the stovetops was the only sound before Logan’s sharp bark of “get back to work!” snapped them out of it. However it didn’t stop them all from giving Steve curious and sympathetic looks as he passed with Clint to the locker room.

Helping Steve sit on the bench, Clint turned to grab the first aid kit hanging on the wall next to the fire extinguisher. “Man you are gonna have a shiner,” the man whistled. “Your lip’s busted open too. I hope Bucky can land a few good shots on that asshole before until the cops get here. He looked like he was gonna kill him when he drug him outside.”

Steve took the bunch of tissues that Clint pushed at him, dabbing at his nose. Bucky? Steve quickly deduced that the person that had stepped over him and intervened, must have been Bucky. But he had been clear across on the other side of the room, and Steve wondered how fast the pianist must have been moving to get there at the right time like he had.

 

The door to the locker room opened again and Logan was standing there, grim and intense as ever, cutting of any further thoughts of what had gone on and might still be going on out front.

“Get back to the bar, I’ll take care of him.”

Steve blinked in surprise. That wasn’t what he was expecting to hear from the chef. Neither did Clint apparently, because the bartender hesitated.

“Are you sure? I mean-“

“Unless you have someone else covering your area, I suggest you get back out there. We’re still open, Barton.”

“Uh, right, right,” Clint set the kit down next to Steve, giving him back his -thankfully- unbroken glasses. “Good luck, man.”

After Clint had bolted, Logan handed Steve a clean dishtowel filled with ice, swinging a leg over the bench and facing him. Steve held the ice pack over the worst throbbing area while watching Logan as he flipped open the first aid kit.

“So what happened out there?” Logan asked as he moved expertly through the supplies, picking out the swabs and disinfectant as Steve explained the brief encounter as he worked.

Logan moved from Steve’s face to his ankle, poking and prodding at it and confirmed it was nothing to worry about with a grunt and a small nod. “You’re not too smart kid, but I’ll give you credit where it’s due. I would have done the same thing.”

Steve found himself swelling with a little bit of cautious pride at the words. Logan didn’t deal out compliments. Just as any of the kitchen staff. But before Steve could say anything more, the door opened again and Bucky entered, more than a little rumpled-looking with his tie undone.

“Steve! You ok?” His worried eyes ticked between him and Logan almost comically, and Steve shifted the ice pack to the front of his face to hide the snicker.

“He’ll be fine, have someone wake him up every hour or so tonight, just to be safe,” Logan answered with a grunt, flipping the kit shut as he glanced back at Steve. “And I’d stay off the ankle for a couple days.” Before the chef stood, the corner of his mouth ticked upwards in a small almost encouraging smile that only was visible to Steve.

Steve realized then that Logan really wasn’t such a bad scary guy after all.

That was, until Logan stopped to glance over his shoulder from the doorway to looked discernibly at Bucky.

“Quit stealing rolls from my kitchen.”

Bucky stood there gaping as Logan left. In terror or in embarrassment Steve wasn’t sure, but when he began to snort and giggle against the ice pack the other shook himself out of it.

“Oh Stevie,” he muttered, kneeling down and peering at the damage with a wince. “Ya big dumb idiot. That guy was three times as big as you.”

Steve attempted to glare at him from behind the ice pack, feeling more blood rush to his face and that was _not_ pleasant right now. “I coulda taken him.”

“Uh huh.”

“Had worse.”

“I’m sure you have,” Bucky said dryly, standing. “c’mon. Let’s get changed, I’ll take you home.”

“What? But Buck, your shift-“

“Strict orders from Maria. I’m done for the night anyway, the guy kept trying to get back in the restaurant before the cops showed up, I got a good hit in so my hand’s a bit swollen.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Your hand-!?“ 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Relax, Lancelot. It’s fine. Come on, I’ll even spring for a cab.”

 

 

 

“So how long have you lived here?” Bucky asked as they climbed the stairs to Steve’s floor. Steve was perched on the pianist’s back, arms around his neck. They had argued for a good five minutes at the foot of the stairs on how much easier it was just to _carry_ him than let him hobble. Steve had finally relented and well, he wasn’t exactly _displeased_ about it as he realized that Bucky’s hair actually smelled really damn good.

“Four years? I think?” Steve frowned through the headache that had come on before the cab ride. He’d zoned out a couple of times during it, making Bucky more and more on edge. He even suggested at one point that maybe he should take Steve to a hospital instead of home.

_“Buck I got punched in the face,” Steve rolled his eyes. “They’ll just say the same thing Logan did.”_

_“Since when is the chef a doctor?!” Bucky’s voice was a little high with worry, and it made their eavesdropping driver laugh._

Since then, Bucky had been asking random –almost stupid at times – questions. For either the sake of keeping Steve focused or for his own nerves, Steve wasn’t entirely certain. But Bucky babbling when he was on edge was sort of cute though.

Bucky set him down so he could unlock the door. After pushing it open, Steve dumped his bag in a zombie-like fashion, and then toed off his shoes carefully after loosening the laces. Bucky followed suit, glancing around the apartment. “Wow.”

“I know, it's a mess,” Steve sighed through the headache that was throbbing through his skull and limped into the kitchen area. Steve had been accused more than once about being sort of a pack rat, the way he kept adding to his apartment. Books were placed everywhere, slowly having trickled off of the shelving he had covering one wall when space started to run out. Steve liked his creature comforts, since he rarely left his apartment. DVDs and game cases were stacked next to the couch that sat in front of a large flat screen TV.

“What? No it doesn’t. You’ve seen my place. At least yours looks lived in. It’s nice, cozy, and _oh my god.”_

Steve stopped and looked back at him wondering what on earth could have made him say that. Bucky was giving him an almost disappointed face and Steve was confused.

“You make your bed? Are you _kidding_ me?”

If Steve weren’t in so much discomfort, he probably would have laughed. He only managed a half smile, mindful of the split in his lip before turning back to the cupboards to grab a glass. Bucky was muttering something about ‘square’ and ‘boy scout’ behind him.

“Steve, sit down. I can do that, just tell me where stuff is.”

“But-“

“Couch,” Bucky pointed. “G’on. Do you want me to carry you again?”

“Water’s in the fridge, asprin in the last cabinet,” Steve mumbled as he obeyed, blushing furiously and not finding it in himself to fight with the other over being a good host. He slumped down onto the couch, groaning as he let his head fall back on the cushion. His hand blindly patted around for the TV controls, finding them and pressing the power button by feel alone. Bucky was still in the over in the kitchen, making an ice pack if the sound of the cracking ice tray was anything to go by.

“Ok,” Bucky was next to him, talking over the low sound coming from the television. “First,” he handed Steve the glass of water and pain killers. Steve took them without hesitation. “And second,” Bucky handed him the towel full of cubes, frowning in sympathy when Steve hissed at the cold.

“This sucks.” Steve sulked, letting Bucky pull his foot up onto the coffee table, setting another ice pack onto it.

“Well I’m glad you don’t _like_ getting punched in the face. Still wondering how the hell you twisted your ankle tho,” Bucky teased as he moved a small pile of books from the free space of the sofa so he could sit.

Grunting, Steve gave him a glare. Bucky just laughed, leaning back as he looked around the apartment again. “So I sort of figured on staying here tonight to keep an eye on you, but I realized I didn’t exactly ask.” He looked back over at Steve uncertainly. “Do you want me to stick around? I can call you every little bit but I swear to God if you don’t pick up -”

“You can stay, Buck,” Steve stopped him, a tired smile. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s not weird or anything?” Bucky asked for assurance.

Steve made a ‘psssh’ noise, waving his free hand in the air at him. “Totally not weird.” _Maybe a little. “_ I have an extra toothbrush you can use, Sam comes over sometimes for video games and left some stuff here. It’s all clean.”

 

An hour later after they had both changed for sleep and resettled back onto the couch, Steve began nodding off during their second episode of _Seinfeld_. Bucky nudged him.

“Go to bed, I’ll wake you up in about forty five minutes. So you better know how to count to ten and who the president is.”

“Ha, so funny.” Steve groused as he carefully stood from the couch, waving a hand at the TV. “Feel free to paw through the DVDs.”

Bucky snorted. “Thanks, but I see your DVDs from here. I’m gonna get nightmares from the titles alone.”

Steve snickered as he rounded the couch, using it as support. While most of his collection was mainly horror films, he’d hate to let Bucky look at the _books_ …

“Same for the kitchen too, if you get hungry,” he threw over his shoulder as he moved to the bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.

 

The rest of the night Bucky was true to his word and woke Steve precisely every forty five minutes, even though after the first three times Steve swore that he was _fine._ He had to give Bucky points for putting up with his crabbing and complaining-and even at one point, being hit smack in the face with a pillow.

Steve woke up on his own that morning, noting the time was a quite a bit earlier than usual for when he got up. But he could hear Bucky in the kitchen, cupboards opening and closing, dishes rattling quietly. He rolled out of bed, fumbled around his dresser for clothes and barely spared Bucky a glance as he bleary made his way to the bathroom, dragging his still aching foot along and only waving and mumbling ‘morning’ when the brunette greeted him.

Steve heard him chuckling before he shut the bathroom door.

 

After showering, changing into fresh clothes and brushing his teeth, Steve felt almost a hundred percent better. His face was still tender and Clint had been right; he found he had a decent black eye when he looked into the mirror. He’d had worse. And at least the glasses helped hide it. _A little._

He left the bathroom, noting that the blanket Bucky had used on the couch was folded neatly at the end.

“Feeling better?” Bucky asked from the kitchen, seated at the small island that separated the kitchen from the living room.

Bucky was shirtless. Steve knew that the guy was built pretty well, but it was almost indecent the way he getting this view so early in the morning. _Entirely unfair_ too, because he most definitely did not mentally prepare for it. Steve had been in too much discomfort and pain last night to be nervous about Bucky being his apartment, but now that his head was clearer his stomach did a weird flip-flop at remembering how causal and nice everything had been last night when they’d gotten settled.

“Yeah, but the ankle still hurts.” Steve sat on the other side of the island and grabbed the glass of juice Bucky had placed down for him, pretending to find it fascinating so that he wouldn’t outright ogle his guest. The ink that he had spotted that first day at the restaurant was in full view; the upper and mid portions of Bucky’s left arm were covered entirely, while the forearm on the other was encircled with a line of writing. Steve couldn’t make out much detail of either, from where he was.

“Yeah, you’ll probably have to stay off it at least for today. You don’t have any coffee?” Bucky set the box of cereal he’d been using back down near Steve, who gave him a look over the rim of his glass.

“That’s super unhealthy for you, Buck.”

Bucky ate a spoonful flakes from his bowl. “Steve I’m giving up smoking for you, I’m not giving up coffee.”

Steve nearly spit out his juice and the other gave him an odd look. “What, you didn’t notice that I’ve been chewing enough gum to fund a little league team?”

“Well I….I noticed you didn’t smoke at the restaurant anymore, but I thought that was just because I was around. Not..” he made a gesture with his hand.

“It sticks to clothes,” Bucky explained, a ‘duh’ look on his face because Steve would have obviously-and did- know that. “I don’t even know where you keep your inhaler.”

“Left pants pocket during work, inside zipper pocket of my bag,” Steve replied automatically as he poured himself some cereal.

Bucky smiled at him from over the counter. “Good to know."

“So I’m going to admit that during the middle of the night I poked around. How many books and DVDs do you _have?”_

Steve shrugged. “Dunno, never counted.”

“How’d you even those shelves up the stairs?” Bucky nodded over at the wall.

“I put them together in here,” Steve gave him an incredulous look that Bucky now matched. “What?”

“You built those.”

“Well it was a _kit,”_ Steve took another bite of cereal. “S’not that hard. Why?”

“I just….didn’t see you as the building type,” Bucky grinned. “I mean, that’s really cool, I know I really suck at it. Do you know how much shit I’ve thrown away from IKEA because I couldn’t get it together right?”

Steve laughed so hard that milk nearly came out of his nose.

 

After breakfast was finished, Steve put the juice back into the fridge and tucked the box of cereal back into its cabinet before he moved to help Bucky finish the dishes, drying and putting them away. Being so close to him now, Steve could clearly see the ink on his left arm and it was completely breathtaking; a sleeve of what looked like a medieval knight’s armor, completely detailed down to the elbow. Prominently displayed on the bicep was a crest, small and ornate with tiny detailed lettering and emblems.

“You like my tattoos?” Bucky grinned, catching him looking over again as he washed the last bowl.

“They’re really nice,” Steve complimented, swallowing a little. _At least his face didn’t hurt when blood rushed up to it anymore_. He put the spoons he’d been drying back into their drawer. “Is that a family crest or something?”

“Yup,” Bucky nodded as he handed Steve the bowl, shutting off the water. “I got that piece when I was a kid. But after my parents died I had the armor bit added; sort of a symbolic thing you know?”

 _Bucky’s parents weren’t around anymore at all?_ Steve felt a small twinge in his chest for the other. “Yeah, I think I do,” he smiled kindly as Bucky leaned back against the sink, crossing his arms as they regarded one other quietly. Steve didn’t realize he was wringing the towel in his hands until Bucky’s eyes had glanced down to it. He stopped, but a little too quickly; a smile began to creep onto Bucky’s lips and he pushed away from his lean to step closer.

“H-How about the other one?” Steve fumbled, nodding at the other’s right arm. “What’s that one?”

Bucky said nothing, crowding him back against the small island; Steve was now forced to look _up_ at Bucky or be stuck with staring at his chest – which alright wasn’t really a _bad_ thing – and he found that Bucky’s eyes were practically glowing.

“So uh…Look, Steve,” Bucky licked his lips. Steve was thankful that the counter was behind him because _good lord,_ that mouth.

“It wouldn’t be out of line or anything if I kissed you right now, would it? Because I really want to.”

Steve felt hot and cold all at once, shaking his head as he dropped the towel. His fingers gripped counter behind him, the attempt to make his voice sound even and calm failing as he stared dumbly at Bucky’s mouth. “I don’t-“ He cleared his throat. “I don’t think it’d be out of line, Buck…”

A roguish grin. “Good,” Bucky leaned down. Just before the anticipated contact, Steve let his eyes fall shut, leaning up and _waiting_ and-

“’cuz I mean,” Bucky pulled back at the last second almost causing Steve to fall forward onto nothing, making his eyes pop back open in surprise.

“I’d really hate to be taking advantage here,” the man said conversationally, a musing face as he was clearly enjoying the fact that he was pushing Steve’s buttons. “You know? You _do_ have a bit of a head injury.”

Steve wanted to strangle him. “You’re _not_ ,” he bit out, nearly trembling as the words almost caught in his throat because _stupidfaceBuckyBarnes_ was saying something _else_ now trying to be _cute_ and Steve huffed, having enough of it.

He reached up around Bucky’s neck and yanked him down, crashing their lips together and ignoring the sharp sting that it caused to his split lip.

Bucky clearly hadn’t been expecting it and grinned against Steve’s mouth. He must not have been thrilled at being upstaged though because his arm came around Steve’s waist, hauling him up into his chest; all Steve could do was hold on as he felt his feet leave the floor, and Bucky plopping him unceremoniously onto the counter.

It had been awhile since Steve had been kissed, so maybe part of the reason he was practically moaning into the other’s mouth was because of that. But when Bucky’s hands slid under his shirt to knead and flex over his sides, he knew that the other part was because _Bucky Barnes knew exactly what the hell he was doing._ There was a loud noise that sounded like something fell but Steve barely registered it, being too distracted by the mouth that was coaxing his own open.

Steve heard the noise again. However, this time he was a little more focused and realized that someone was _pounding on his apartment door_ -rather obnoxiously, too. He didn’t have time to wonder at exactly how long that had been going on, or at exactly what point Bucky’s mouth had found its way to his neck. And he _really_ didn’t have time to wonder about what the low noise that came from Bucky’s throat was because the hammering started again and this time a loud familiar female voice shouted from the other side.

“ _Steven Grant Rogers_!”

He froze.

“Steve if you don’t open this door in the next fifteen seconds I’m going to break it down and to _hell_ with your deposit!!”

Steve shoved Bucky away, scrambling down from the counter. She’d do it too. He hobbled to the door and flung it open; a woman burst through as if there was a fire, neatly styled brown hair swishing and daunting heels clicking sharply on the hardwood floor.

Well, Steve supposed it was a good time as ever for Bucky to meet Peggy Carter.

“Do you know how worried I’ve been!?” The woman railed at Steve as she marched into the apartment. “You haven’t answered my messages, and when Natasha told me she’d not been able to contact you--it’s been _hours_ since anyone saw or heard from you for _God’s sake_ Steven you could have had a concussion or fallen what am I to think when-oh, hello.”

If Peggy was affected by Bucky’s state of half-dress, she didn’t show it. She stepped up to Bucky without breaking stride, holding out her hand, head held high , shoulders straight. A pleasant business-like smile fell onto her face as if he couldn’t have _possibly_ heard her reaming Steve over the coals three seconds ago.

“You must be James. Peggy Carter, how do you do.”

Bucky shook her hand politely but wasn’t able to respond because Peggy picked right up again, turning back onto Steve who looked like a poor frozen deer in headlights.

“Now get dressed, Angie and I will take you both out to lunch. You have fifteen minutes.” An order, not a request. She strode back towards the door, pausing and turning to look back at Steve. “And Steve? I’d wear something with a collar.”

Steve’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, hand snapping up to clamp over the side of his neck that Bucky had been paying close attention to only moments ago.

Peggy closed the door thoughtfully behind her.

Steve was mortified. His eyes ticked over to Bucky, not knowing what to say.

 

Bucky let out a small giggle. “I like Peggy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAHAHAHAHAHHAA. did i totally throw some of you guys off? i bet you all thought it was gonna be the Date Chapter. ;Dv nope. mwahaha.
> 
>  
> 
> Remember, *THROWS GLITTER* FICTION! I know probably that much injury from one punch isn't realistic but I didn't wanna hurt him TOO badly you know!? LOL. Also I don't get butthurt if you spot spelling/word errors. 8)v Feel free to say something.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He paused for a moment, and then popped another message on after it.
> 
> [candy is not a meal no matter what she tells you]
> 
> [god you’re no fun steve :( ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little later than normal, guys. I did notice the slight creeping of the hit counter the last couple of days when I NORMALLY would have made an update and I felt a little bad. :( I'm sorry if it was some of you looking for it. 
> 
> I just...I really really REALLY hated this chapter at first, and I struggled with it HARD. (and wow it came out to 6,000+ words har har lookit me) I've been stabbing at it for a week and scrapped a shitton of stuff that just didn't work well. But luckily, I got back into a groove and i'm sort of alright with it now. Hopefully I did ok and you guys dig it. I'm more than certain that I messed up with some grammer things but I felt pretty comfortable with it after a few read-throughs, and I tried to make sure I didnt keep using the same darn words to describe something. (woo, thesaurus dot com, i love you. and also that ctrl+f function for helping me weed out the more obvious repeated uses 8D;)
> 
> I think we're a little over halfway done here, maybe three more chapters. Just depends on what I can get out of the rest of the outline I have done up, and what random cute shit comes up along the way. (like really, some of this stuff just writes itself. I'm going along and oh hi we're going to do this thing? alright then. Like a couple of these characters i've been adding in weren't supposed to be ever anything more than a passing mention HAH) so i guess that might be good news for some of you. :)v
> 
> /despairing.
> 
> p.s. sorry if i messed up Angie at all? like...I dunno, I love her so I tried. 8D;
> 
>  
> 
> remember. *throws glitter* FICTION! 8Dv

 

“I can’t believe you gave me a _hickey,_ ” Steve grumbled, arms tight around Bucky’s neck as he was carried down the stairs. “Are you like, thirteen or something?”

Bucky said nothing but the shoulders that Steve was draped over shook a little, and _not_ because they were heading down the stairs.

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Nope.”

_Lies._ Steve delivered a sharp tug on Bucky’s ear.

“Hey-ow!” Bucky growled and his hand shifted then a small quick pinch was delivered to Steve’s rear. Steve jumped, hauling himself higher on the other’s shoulders in a frantic attempt to get away from the hand and no, he did _not_ squeal. It was a gasp.

“Jesus Buck don’t _do_ that!”

“You started it,” the brunette sniggered, rounding the landing and continuing on down the last set of stairs.

 

A wolf whistle greeted them when they reached the first floor.

“Man, Peg wasn’t kidding,” A sharply dressed woman standing in the doorway of the building grinned. “He’s a hottie.”

“Angie,” Steve warned as Bucky stopped in front of her.

“What! It’s a compliment. See? He’s totally digging it.”

“I sorta am,” Bucky grinned, glancing over his shoulder to look at Steve.

“So you’re James,” Angie sized him up, a smirk creeping onto her face. “Angie Martinelli. I’d shake your hand but they’re full of Steve, so….” She let her eyes roam over the entire display, crossing her arms. “Why is he carrying you?”

“I-“Steve shifted, expecting Bucky to let him down. He didn’t. Huffing a little he rolled his eyes, throwing a look at the back of the brunette’s head before returning his attention back to Angie. “I messed up my ankle last night.”

“Along with the face?” Angie tsked, giving Steve a once-over with a moue of distaste.

“Well you know me, might as well go all out.”

“Does Peggy know you can’t walk?”

“I can _walk,_ ” Steve argued, becoming embarrassed and choosing to ignore the ‘uh huh’ face that Bucky and Angie obviously shared. Knowing he wasn’t going to win, he heaved a sigh and just rolled with it. “Where’s Peggy, anyway?”

“Phone call, she’s outside,” Angie turned to hold the door open for them. “We’re just going to the place down the block, you think you can carry him that far macho man?”

“He’s not carrying me down the street,” Steve butted in before Bucky could open his mouth.

Angie snorted. “Yeah no, we’re not letting you limp down the sidewalk,” she threw over her shoulder, pushing the door open and holding it.

“Thank you, Angie,” Bucky said sweetly. “He won’t listen to me.”

“Oh yeah, he can be pretty stubborn,” Angie agreed. “Besides, if he walked on his own it’d take _forever.”_

Steve groaned, rolling his eyes. _Leave it to Bucky to play the suck up._ “I’m _right here,_ you guys.”

 

 

The diner down the block, _Howard’s,_ had been in business since the fifties. Some of the décor of the place reflected it, but it had obviously been through several remodels and renovations since opening. The booths were a deep red, the tabletops a fake marbled white. Steve was no stranger to the place and neither was Peggy. Peggy, who had lived on the next floor down in Steve’s apartment building once upon a time, had spent many late nights there with him; long talks over coffee, and too many bad-for-you-food meals when they both were too tired or just plain lazy to cook for themselves.

It had been awhile for Steve since he’d been in the place. After Peggy moved, he’d only gone back into the diner a handful of times; the empty lonely feeling that he got had caused him to abandon the establishment and seek comfort in his own space.

The waitress that seated them seemed extra pleasant to Steve, and he thought it was all in his head until she gave him that _look._ That pitying and sorry gaze, eyes clearly surveying Steve’s back and blue face while trying to pretend that she _wasn’t_. Steve hated it. He hated when people felt sorry for him. He’d gotten enough of that when he was a kid. And it hadn’t helped that on the way down the block, people had given them strange looks at him being perched on Bucky’s back like he had been.

The irritation and discomfort must have been written all over Steve’s face because he felt something bump his knee, and he glanced over at Bucky. A little smile greeted him that Angie and Peggy were too busy engrossed in their menus to notice.

After they placed their orders, Bucky’s phone rang. Looking embarrassed as he quickly retrieved it from his jacket, apologizing to the table for forgetting to put it on silent. His face turned serious when he looked at the screen. Casting a weary look at the table, he slid from the booth. “I gotta take this. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Bucky was out of ear shot, Angie spoke up. “Oh my god Steve, he wants you so _bad_.”

“Angie!” Peggy tutted, glancing around the diner; she’d been a little loud about it, but luckily no one seemed to hear it.

“Oh come on, it’s totally obvious-“

“Don’t you think that I know that, I _did_ walk in on them necking,” Peggy rolled her eyes.

“You didn’t walk in on us,” Steve glanced around his shoulder to look to see where Bucky had gone. The look on his face didn’t seem right.

“Oh didn’t I?” Peggy smiled knowingly.

Steve turned to look back at the two women, both wearing Cheshire-like grins. “I answered the door, he was in the _kitchen_ ,” he reminded, grabbing his glass of water.

“But Ibetcha _you_ were in the kitchen too, before Peg here nearly beat the door in,” Angie grinned.

Feeling his face heat, Steve took another drink of water and mentally pleaded the fifth.

Thankfully Bucky chose to come back at that moment, approaching the table and tucking his phone back into his pocket.

“Something’s come up, I’m gonna have to head out.”

Peggy frowned in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah its fine, it’s just uh…” The man was practically beaming now. “That was just my brother in law, and-”

Steve perked up. “Your sister’s having the baby?”

Bucky grinned. “They’re already at the hospital,” He looked to Peggy and Angie apologetically. “I’m gonna have to take a raincheck on the lunch.”

“Perfectly alright,” Peggy smiled. “Tell her congratulations for us.”

“Will do,” Bucky grinned, and he clapped a hand onto Steve’s shoulder, squeezing. “I’ll call you later.” He looked back at the girls. “It was nice meeting you guys.”

“Good luck!” Angie called after him.

 

“Ohhh, he’ll _call_ you,” Angie teased once Bucky was once again out of ear shot.

“Oh shut up.”

 

After they had finished their lunches-and canceling Bucky’s before the cook started on it-Steve had assured the women that he’d be more than fine walking back to his place. He hadn’t been entirely wrong on that part; going down the block hadn’t been much of a struggle, but when he had re-entered his building and took a look at the stairs, he cursed under his breath and did so the rest of the entire three flights.

By the time he’d reached his floor, his ankle was throbbing and angry. He’d overdone it.

Pushing his door open, he re-lived the night before; carefully removing his shoes, hopping along to the couch and collapsed down into it. This time though there was no Bucky to get him an ice pack or some pain killers. Grunting, Steve lifted his head from the headrest and glared over at the kitchen, as if that would will it to move closer. No such luck. Heaving a heavy sigh he braced himself to stand when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

He found Natasha’s name and mustached-finger photo glowing on the screen. He smiled at it for a moment before sliding a finger to answer it.

“Hey.”

“ _Hey yourself_ ,” Natasha’s voice came from the other end. Steve could envision the knowing tilt of her lips that she was usually wore with that tone. “ _How’re things?_ ”

By ‘things’, Steve knew Natasha meant Bucky. Seeing no point in trying to hide anything from the redhead, Steve relaxed back into the sofa. “Fine, considering Peggy showed up this morning at a really bad time.”

“ _How bad of a time, exactly_?”

Steve could hear that Natasha was _loving_ this. “Me and Buck we…were sort of making out in the kitchen.”

Natasha let out a pleased cackle. “ _”Sort of making out”,”_ she repeated. “ _So what, did she walk in on you?”_

“No, thank god.”

“ _That’s not what Peggy said.”_

Steve’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he sat upright. “You’ve-you’ve talked to Peggy already? _How?_ ”

“ _Yeah Steve. There’s these things called phones. You’re actually talking on one right now.”_

“I _just_ left her like, twenty minutes ago,” Steve argued. They almost _always_ knew when something happened. But Steve always figured that with Natasha, he could blame the loudmouth gossip Clint on a good portion of the intel she received.

With Natasha was still chuckling on the other end, Steve rehashed the entire morning, her hums breaking into the narrative every so often. After he had finished, the woman got down to business.

“ _So among the reasons I called, I’m supposed to make sure you’re_ not _coming in tonight for your shift.”_

“Yeah, definitely not,” Steve sighed with relief. “I think I overdid it coming back from lunch. My ankle’s killing me.”

“ _Stay off of it then_ ,” Natasha said sternly.

“Yes ma’am.”

“ _I mean it Steve. Don’t kill yourself trying to get better like you always do.”_

“I know, I know…”

_“If it helps, Bruce told me that Tony OK’d you getting paid for what you missed last night, and tonight’s shift too”_

“What? That’s-“

“ _What’s right,”_ the redhead stopped him. “ _They know you have bills to pay like everyone else. So just relax and get healed up so you can get back on Tuesday.”_

“I will,” Steve promised. “Thanks Natasha.”

 

Steve pressed the end button and tilted his head to stare up at the ceiling, thinking over the last twenty four hours. His phone chimed again. Frowning, he looked at the notification that he’d missed a call but he had a text with a picture attachment that had come through almost directly after it. Both were from Bucky.

Curiosity piqued, he loaded the picture. Steve was greeted with the image of Bucky and a little girl that was maybe about seven, with strawberry blonde hair and freckles that he assumed was the niece that Bucky had mentioned before. They were in a waiting room from what the background of the picture presented, a potted plant and rows of seats.

Steve smiled and ticked out a response.

[Having fun?]

[ _Oh loads.]_

_[Ali’s trying to distract me. I’m a nervous wreck, man]_

Before Steve could respond, Bucky sent another text.

_[she downloaded some photo sticker app on my phone]_

Another picture was sent, but this time it had heart stickers plastered all around the edges while the little girl, Ali, had stickered neon green sunglasses and red lips over her face. Bucky had been given a false blush complete with purple eyeshadow and a big red bow on the top of his head.

Steve sniggered.

[It’s a good look for you]

[ _I dunno, I’m more of an earthy tones kinda guy dontcha think? ;) ]_

[ _did you get back to your place ok?]_

Steve glanced at his foot that he’d put up on the coffee table.

[yeah] he lied.

[ _you can’t lie for shit Rogers, even over text.]_

He gaped at the screen. How the hell did Bucky-

[ _Natasha text me.]_

Groaning, part of Steve wanted to chuck his phone across the room. _How the hell was everyone so fast at passing along information?_

[I have tonight off, I’ll be fine.] Steve punched the letters in bitterly. They _cared_ , he knew, but he was _not_ a little kid. He pressed the ‘send’ button and got up off the couch, as if to stick it to all the meddling well-meaning friends he had that why yes, he could make it to the stupid fridge and get some ice all by himself.

He set his phone on the counter and rummaged around the freezer for the tray. The phone chimed again and he left it alone as he made the pack. It chimed again after a few minutes, and Steve sighed as he swiped it off the counter, making his way back to the couch to read the first text.

[ _don’t get mad.]_

How had Bucky picked up on his annoyance by just _that_ text? Steve rescanned the conversation and it hadn’t let _on_ that he was annoyed…

The second message made Steve feel terrible and elated at once.

[ _I mean I know I’m the new guy but I can still care about you punk]_

Steve re-read the line several times, stomach doing a flip-flop. Bucky _cared_ about him. It was more than Steve expected the other to say and he realized that he needed to hurry and text something back before Bucky thought he was really honestly pissed off at him.

[I’m not mad at you Buck]

The response was instant. [ _i’m glad you’re not]_

[ _I’m gonna get the kid some food.]_

[yeah you sort of have to feed kids, Buck ;) ]

He paused for a moment, and then popped another message on after it.

[candy is not a meal no matter what she tells you]

[ _god you’re no fun steve :( ]_

_[you are never babysitting with me never ever]_

[someone’s gotta be the good cop] Steve argued back.

[ _but being bad’s fun, stevie ;)]_

Steve rolled his eyes and another text came through.

_[ I’ll call you on my break tonight]_

_[I gotta talk to you about something._ ]

[I’ll keep my phone close by then :)]

_[see that you do :P]_

 

Hours later, Steve was still on the couch. Granted though he’d gotten up a couple times for water and bathroom breaks. He was currently balancing a bowl of cereal on his knee while shoving the flakes around with his spoon. He’d neglected to go grocery shopping again, and with all the excitement over the last day and a half it was the last thing on his mind. In the middle of the grumbling rant in his head that he should have had Peggy and Angie help him out before they left him at lunch, his phone rang.

Steve suddenly felt nervous. Pushing the button to mute the TV, he checked the screen of his phone and confirmed that yeah, it was Bucky.

He took a deep breath and answered it. “Hey. How’d it go at the hospital?”

“ _Amazing. Olivia Rose, born squishy, pink and perfect. Totally unbiased opinion, of course_.”

“Of course,” Steve chuckled. “I’m glad it went ok.”

“ _Me too, I was more nervous than my brother in law was. But he’s been through it once already so I guess that’s why,_ ” Bucky laughed a little. “ _It was all I could do to tear myself away to get to the restaurant on time._ “He paused for a moment. “ _Sooo…at the risk of you hanging up on me, how you feeling?”_ Bucky had a clear wince in his tone, as if bracing himself.

“I’m good,” he assured warmly. “Just watching TV and staying off the ankle.”

“ _Good, good. Did you eat something?”_

“I’m eating right now,” Steve stated in a-matter-of-fact tone.

“Oh yeah? What?”

“…..cereal?”

“ _Steve_.”

“It’s a meal!” he argued.

A grunt sounded from the other, and Steve could tell that Bucky wanted to fight him on it. Steve was a little pleased that he didn’t so he pushed off the subject. “So what did you want to talk about?”

Bucky was hesitant. “ _I didn’t get a chance to talk to you earlier about it…but are you still up for tomorrow_?”

Steve took a small breath, frowning and remembering that tomorrow was _Sunday_. He hadn’t forgotten, but he’d been pretty distracted. “Sure I am,” he answered carefully. “What do you mean?”

A sigh on the other end. “ _I mean that….I know you were pretty uncomfortable earlier today at lunch. And it wasn’t because Angie was teasing you_.”

Steve sat up, running a hand through his hair and recalled the pained sorry looks he got, the embarrassment and anxiety he had felt. “I can deal with it.”

“ _But you don’t have to’ deal with it’. I don’t want you all uncomfortable on our date, Steve. Besides there’s a little bit of a climb and that ankle probably wouldn’t take it well_.”

Steve blinked. “…Climbing? What do you –“

“ _Not telling so don’t bother asking_.” Bucky said cheekily on the other end. “ _Gotta keep the mystery, you know.”_

Steve grunted. “Are you sure it’d be ok to push it back?” Part of him was slowly becoming relieved.

“ _Yeah, I….sort of already did?_ ” Bucky said sheepishly. “ _I made the arrangements earlier, don’t worry about it. I swear_.”

“OK. But…I’m sorry, Buck.” Steve picked at a string on the blanket covering his legs. He did feel terrible. Bucky had been pretty excited about it, and he’d been looking forward to going out and doing something with him.

“ _Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry about. Maybe we can have a movie night or something instead, good ‘ol traditional Back-Up Date_.”

Steve sat up a little more. “Yeah? I’d like that.”

“ _No horror though_.”

“Of course not, can’t have you sleeping with all the lights on again.” Steve teased. “What _would_ your power bill look like…”he mused.

“ _Oh shut up_ ,” Bucky laughed on the other end.

“What movies do you like to watch then?”

What Bucky said next sort of threw Steve for a loop.

“ _Classics_.”

And here Steve was pegging Bucky as an action-flick kind of guy. “Classics?”

“ _Yeah! Errol Flynn’s Robin Hood is like, one of my favorites. And how can anyone not like Katharine Hepburn? She was kickass._ ”

“I can’t say I’ve watched anything like that,” Steve admitted, scratching the back of his head, giving a short laugh.

“ _What! Are you kidding me? That’s like….sad, man_. _You don’t know what you’re missin’._ ”

“Well alright, bring whatever over tomorrow evening, you can show me,” Steve smiled.

“ _Hell yeah.”_

There was a knock on the door and Steve glanced over in the direction of the entry way, frowning. “Hold on, someone’s at my door.”

Steve climbed off the couch, making his way to the door as the knocking sounded again. “Coming, coming,” He called out to the person on the other side, phone hanging from his hand.

He opened the door and a guy not much younger than himself stood there, obviously a delivery guy from a restaurant if the shirt with the logo was anything to go by. Or the brown paper bag that he held up.

“Uh…I didn’t order anything?” Steve smiled awkwardly.

The guy didn’t seem a bit phased, glancing at his note pad in his hand. “Steve Rogers?”

“Yeah,” he blinked.

“Right place then. It’s already paid for, don’t worry about it,” the guy held out the bag, an impatient look on his face that clearly said ‘ _dude just hurry up so I can go’_. Steve took the bag gingerly, thanking him and shut the door, staring at the bag in his hand.

He put his phone back to his ear.

“ _Who was it?_ ” Bucky asked on the other end.

Steve chuckled a little uneasily. “Well, you probably couldn’t guess if you tried,” he peered into the bag. It did smell amazing, whatever it was.

“ _Hmm…..take out guy_?”

Steve balked for a moment, a noise catching in his throat. _How the hell_ \- “Did you…did you send me food?”

“ _I can’t take all the credit, Clint helped me out_.”

Steve was floored as he made his way into the kitchen, pulling out the foam clamshell. “Thank you Buck, but…you really didn’t have to.”

“ _I know, but I wanted to. Cuz' I’m sorta kinda crazy about you._ ” Bucky added on coolly.

Steve felt himself turn red and his breath caught in his throat.

“ _You know, in case you didn’t get that this mornin_ g,” Bucky continued teasing, bringing up the events of what had happened in the kitchen in Steve’s mind.

Steve rambled and didn’t know how to stop. “I know-at least, I figured, but…I didn’t….”

“ _That’s ok, right_?”

“It’s—yeah, Buck.” Steve grinned, letting the air out of his lungs to calm himself down. “I mean, If _you_ didn’t get that from this morning…”

Bucky chuckled. “Glad we’re on the same page then.”

“Me too.”

There was silence for a moment before Bucky spoke up again.

“ _Well I better get back inside. I’ll call you about tomorrow_.”

“Sounds good.”

“ _G‘night Steve_.”

 

**Sunday 6:30 pm**

“ _Is it ok to come over now?”_

Steve had spent the entire day cleaning his apartment the best he could. Looking around the large space, he gave a nod even though he knew that Bucky couldn’t see it. “Yeah. Come over whenever.”

“ _Awesome,”_ there was the sound of heavy booted feet climbing stairs quickly. “ _I stopped by the store.”_

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Steve smiled. “Junk food?” he guessed.

“ _Of course, can’t have a movie night without junk food,”_ Bucky scoffed on the other end. “ _What kind of date would I be?”_ Steve could hear the rustling of bags and the climbing footsteps continued. Steve glanced to the door, having a hunch.

“So…. where are you?”

A knock sounded throughout the apartment and Steve grinned, moving to the entryway and flinging the door open. Bucky stood there, the grin that had been on his face fading, phone still to his ear.

“Did you seriously just open your door without asking who it was first?”

Steve blinked. “Well don’t worry Buck, I’m sure an alien wouldn’t knock…”

Bucky didn’t find his retort humorous. “I’m serious, Steve.”

“Fine then,” Steve shrugged, shoving the door shut in the brunette’s face and catching the shocked wide-eyed expression before it closed.

There was a pause.

“ _Are you kidding me_?” Bucky’s voice came muffled from the other side of the door, echoing in Steve’s ear through the phone.

Steve stared smugly at the painted wood. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he spoke into his phone.

A groan and mutter Steve couldn’t quite understand. A knock followed and Steve hung up his line.

“Who is it?”

“Who do you _think_.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, sir. Can I see some ID?” Steve went up on his toes and looked through the peephole. He watched Bucky groan, throwing his head back with a groan. “Steeeeeeve.”

Taking pity on him, Steve opened the door, grinning. “Oh! Hey.”

Bucky gave him a lame look. “I cannot _believe_ the amount of sass that you contain. It’s unreal.”

Steve moved aside, snickering and taking the bags from Bucky as he entered the apartment. “Geeze, what did you get?” he set the bags on the kitchen counter, peeking over the edge curiously. There was probably more stuff crammed in the two brown sacks than what they’d taken over to Natasha and Clint’s.

“A little of everything,” Bucky replied, dumping his satchel next to his boots and moving to help Steve unload the bags.

“I was thinking we could get take out,” Steve suggested. “I dug out a couple menus, you can pick if you want,” he nodded to the small pile of brochures as he took a six pack of soda to stick in the fridge.

“Oh man, I love this place,” Bucky was holding a Chinese food menu from place several blocks over. “You good with this one?”

 

After ordering enough to feed four people-Bucky had argued that any food they didn’t finish off Steve could eat on the next few days- they had settled on the couch to wait. Bucky took his phone out and was flicking through the pictures of his new niece, and more pictures of the older one, Ali. Steve had to admit, watching Bucky’s face light up while talking about the girls was pretty amazing.

“She wants me to teach her piano, can you believe that?” Bucky was almost bouncing on the sofa, speaking of Ali. “I mean, at first I thought she was just saying it to distract me or something, but she made me promise again before I left the hospital.”

Steve took a bite of red vine, chewing and listening as Bucky continued on.

“I think I already went a little overboard, I already ordered some books for her. I mean I have no idea how to teach, let alone a kid…”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Steve assured. “You don’t remember your first lesson?”

Bucky made a ‘pssh’ noise, waving his hand as he tossed his phone on the coffee table, picking a vine out for himself. “Yeah, I remember that old bat. She used a _ruler,_ Steve. Do you know how much that shit hurts?”

Steve couldn’t help himself. He giggled at the thought of a young Bucky sitting at a piano, pouting and glaring at some old woman while she was waving a ruler at him menacingly.

“It’s not funny!” the brunette argued, struggling not to laugh. “Really! I couldn’t play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star without having a mild panic attack until I was like seven!”

Their giggle fit down, and they sat staring at the TV for a moment.

Steve couldn’t help himself. He was gonna burst if he didn’t do it.

He began to hum.

After the first four notes, Bucky’s head ever so slowly tilted over to look at him. “Don’t you dare.” The deadly glare the pianist attempt to give him lost its edge when a snort of laughter escaped from his throat.

A shit-eating grin covered Steve’s face and he continued to hum.

“Steve. I swear to god….”

“How I wonder what you –“

“That’s it!”Bucky dove at him, attacking his ribs with wiggling fingers and Steve nearly screamed as he tried to get away.

“Not so tough are ya now, huh?!” Bucky cackled.

“No no no!” Steve was laughing so hard that his eyes began to water. He ignored the slight hurt in his sides, shaking his head and trying to grab at Bucky’s hands to get them to stop. By the time Bucky showed some mercy Steve had managed to wriggle back entire the length of the couch, crammed up next to the arm. He was nearly out of breath, gasping and chest heaving as he wiped at his face.

Bucky’s expression grew worried. “Oh shit, I forgot about your asthma. Do you need your inhaler? Or-“

“No, no I’m fine,” Steve waved a hand at the other, swallowing and taking a deep breath and let his lungs expand.

“Are you _sure_?”

“Totally am,” Steve cleared his throat. “Just winded. No big deal.” He moved to sit upright but Bucky’s hand stopped him. He assumed that the other was just being overdramatic, and he looked up to reassure him that he was ok _._ But Bucky wasn’t keeping him place for that reason.

Bucky was hovering over him now, a knee placed on the patch of sofa between Steve’s. The hand on his shoulder moved to his jaw and Bucky’s darkened eyes never left his as he pressed his thumb over Steve’s lower lip.

The gentle smile was an outright contradiction against the hoarse low tone his voice carried. “You’re cute when you laugh, you know that?”

That hotcold feeling washed over Steve as he watched Bucky’s tongue poked out a fraction of a second, wetting his lips. He couldn’t help the noise that bubbled up from his throat, and that was all Bucky needed to finish closing the small amount of space left between them.

It was warm and sweet and Steve was _lost_ when the thumb pressed carefully on his chin, opening him up against a hot and greedy mouth. His hands floundered blindly before they gripped the front Bucky’s shirt, fingers twisting in the material, struggling to keep up with the tongue that teased and curled around his own.

When the knee between his pressed further down into the cushions, pushing the body _back,_ Steve’s lips were a pleasant sort of numb. He hadn’t even realized that he’d closed his eyes until he had to open them to give Bucky an almost accusing look.

Bucky was smiling down at him knowingly, his hand sliding up Steve’s thigh. “Don’t look so grumpy,” he chuckled. “I’ll be doing that a _lot_ more from now on.”

Swallowing, Steve nodded as he felt his face burning hotter as he fought against the catch in his voice. “I like the sound of that.”

Grinning, Bucky moved off the couch- but not before giving Steve’s thigh a light and playful smack. Going to the entry way where he’d set his bag down, he called back over his shoulder. “So which movie you wanna watch first?”

 

 

“So what’d ya think?”

The remains of dinner was strewn over the coffee table, the takeout cartons were all opened and empty. After Bucky had given up being stubborn on insisting that he could use chopsticks-which Steve had found amusing to watch, the other almost getting a bite into his mouth before it dropped- and switched over to a fork, he’d had no issues after that in helping clean it all out while watching the movie.

Steve reached out and plucked the DVD case from the table, flipping it over to re-read the title; The Marx Brothers in _The Big Store._ “I loved it,” he grinned over at Bucky, who was trying to pin down the last piece of mar far chicken in the carton he held.

“Well good, that means I can make you watch their other ones at some point.”

“Holy shit they did _more_?! Like this one?”

“Did they do- _yes_ Steve, they did like twenty movies. And _yes_ I have them all,” he added on when Steve opened his mouth to ask that very question. “I only bought this one though, the rest are in another box someplace.”

“A box?”

Buck threw a wadded up napkin at him. “What, did you think I lived like a squatter before I moved back? I had my stuff shipped over here, but I haven’t been motivated to unpack it all yet. I just dig through shit if I need something,” The brunette shrugged and put his carton onto the table.

“Well I can help out sometime if you want me to,” Steve offered. “Since you know, I’m good at putting together furniture,” he added on casually.

“That would be _amazing._ Alright, you’re in charge of the shitty furniture from foreign lands,” Bucky said diplomatically.

Steve chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.” He did a quick survey of the remains of dinner. “Wanna clean up and have some popcorn?”

“Sure,” Bucky grinned, standing and reaching out for the plastic bag the cartons had come in. “You cook too, can’t say that I’m surprised,” Bucky teased as Steve stacked the empty containers together, handing them over.

“Yeah I can cook but popcorn really…isn’t cooking?”

“Steve I’ve ruined _top ramen_ before. I’ve got this big ol’ kitchen my sister had remodeled while they were living there and I only use the microwave, making popcorn on the stove is totally cooking to me,” He followed Steve into the kitchen.

“So you can’t build things and you can’t cook. What a catch,” Steve rolled his eyes playfully as he grabbed the pan and matching lid out of the drawer under the stove. He winced for a second at his wording. A _catch._ That insinuated that he and Bucky were an _item_ , right? Was that ok? They both liked eachother, they made that perfectly clear but…

Much to Steve’s relief, the other continued on with the teasing. “I’ll have you know I make up for my shortcomings in other areas,” Bucky sniffed airily, pretending to be hurt as he stuffed the bag of trash into the bin.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Steve agreed, nodding as he put the oil in the still-heating pan. “I’m sure you change lightbulbs _real_ good.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you.”

“Nope,” Steve sniggered.

Bucky snorted. “So, _popcorn master_ , what do I gotta know?”

 

After explaining the simple task of heating the oil and putting in the kernels, any doubt Steve had had about Bucky just humoring him with being shown how to make popcorn disappeared, because Bucky _really_ had no idea what he was doing in the kitchen. When he studied the bottle of oil closely and wondered aloud what the differences between it and olive oil were, Steve knew that yeah, he was going to have to start with some basics.

Keeping these thoughts to himself, he assured Bucky just the same. “See? Really nothing to it,” Steve smiled.

“Yeah, seems pretty simple.”

He felt Bucky come up behind him, hands settling on his hips. Steve’s hand gripped the handle of the pan a little tighter when Bucky’s mouth brushed his ear carefully.

“I think I like watching _you_ cook though.”

“Oh-oh yeah?”

“Um hm.” Bucky nuzzled into his neck. Steve let his head fall to the side and Bucky took the invitation, placing a hot open-mouthed kiss below his ear.

“What is with you and cornering me in the kitchen?” Steve demanded, chuckling as Bucky bit down just a little, causing Steve’s hand to fly off the handle of the pan to grip Bucky’s.

“That a complaint?”

“More like an observation,” Steve pushed back into him for more contact, silently urging him on to just _shut up_ and continue. Though he wasn’t exactly urging for one of those hands he’d been gripping onto to move to his stomach, he fingers slipping under the waist of his jeans and slowly moving _down_. He jumped against Bucky’s tightening arms and the other laughed softly into his ear. The fingers stopped.

Steve’s stomach quivered just a little under the warm hand. “Uhm…” Steve swallowed, distracted by the tongue that did something _just right_ behind his ear that made his mind go entirely blank. His eyes rolled back and his head lolled onto Bucky’s shoulder, body going loose and pliant against the firm chest.

Bucky placed another kiss, lips brushing on Steve’s skin as he spoke. “You’re like a kitten. You know? Get to your neck and all the pluck goes right outta ya….”

The popcorn began overflowing under the lid and Bucky’s arms slipped around Steve’s waist, the mouth was back to exploring and tasting, completely ignoring what was happening on the stove top.

“Jesus Buck you’re gonna have to stop,” Steve whimpered when Bucky pulled him back against his chest and a low throaty growl answered back, insistent fingers toying with his jeans button.

“If it burns, _you’re_ going to be the one eating it, not me,” Steve warned.

Bucky froze. “Ew.”

“ _Exactly_.”

A heavy sigh came from over his shoulder and Bucky’s arms loosened, allowing Steve to step away and put the contents of the pan into one of the waiting bowls. “Go put the movie on.”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky went to the fridge and grabbed two more sodas as Steve added more kernels to the pan. He glanced over and found that Bucky looked pretty pleased with himself as he shut the door with his hip.

 

 

 

Steve had drifted off towards the end of the third movie, and when he came to his face was smooshed against Bucky’s shoulder, a small amount of drool in the corner of his mouth. Wincing, he lifted his head and found that Bucky was dozing with an arm wrapped around Steve’s shoulders. The DVD menu restarted its music for probably the fifth time.

“Bucky.”

“Mm?” his eyes opened blinked open, and he glanced at the TV. “Oh, oops,” he said in a drowsy laugh. He reached out, grabbing his phone and checking the screen. “I should get home, I gotta be up early tomorrow.” He picked up the TV controls and shut it off, the apartment becoming silent.

“’Kay,” Steve yawned and flopped down, sprawling out over the now free sofa. He heard the other pulling on his jacket, and then walking a little, probably to get his shoes. The couch shifted a minute later and a hand closed over his leg, shaking it gently.

“Steve. Go to bed.”

Steve grunted, not opening his eyes. “S’fine.”

“You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

“Watch me.”

“Oh for crying out loud….”

Steve’s eyes flew open as he was hauled up by a pair of strong arms. Bucky tucked him against his chest, turning and moving towards the bed. “You’re such a brat,” Bucky huffed, carefully setting him down. Steve instantly curled onto his side and buried his face into his pillow, sighing contentedly. He felt a hand ruffle his hair, a kiss quickly planted to his temple.

“’Night punk. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” Steve hummed. He hear Bucky laugh a little and after a moment, through his half-asleep state, he realized Bucky was still standing next to the bed. He rolled back over and opened his eyes. The other was indeed still standing there, coat zipped up, bag strapped over his chest. Clearly ready to go but waiting for something.

“What, wanna kiss me g’night?” Steve grinned up at him sleepily.

“Dunno Steve, you and that pillow look pretty close.”

Bleary-eyed, Steve sat up. Bucky gave a small laugh under his breath before bending over and delivering a quick chaste peck against Steve’s lips.

“I had fun.”

“Me too,” Steve’s eyes fell closed as a hand slipped into his hair, almost purring but then he remembered that _kitten_ remark from earlier. Another kiss took him by surprise but he leaned into it, letting Bucky lead it. It was heated and slowly becoming more intense and when Steve reached out to pull at the bag strap around the other’s chest, Bucky pulled back.

“Ok, I gotta go,” he pecked Steve’s lips again. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised again.

Steve groaned and collapsed back into his pillow, giving Bucky’s retreating figure a secret appreciative leer.

“And stay off the ankle,” Bucky called back out through the quite apartment before he shut the door.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll get you to watch a horror movie one day, just you wait.”
> 
> “Don’t you threaten me.”
> 
> “What if I promised to hold your hand?” Steve grinned at the groan he heard in his ear.
> 
> “Bribery, Steve? I thought you were better than that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh you guys, I apologize for taking so long to update this. (like I've said before, I don't have any intentions or thoughts about abandoning this, so if I go another long while before an update don't freak out ;P although nudges are encouraging! LOL) 
> 
> But at this point, I GIVE UP on this chapter and I'm just gonna post it. I've been working on it for like what, three weeks? This chapter went through about four revisions. So this is what I ended up with. I really didn't intend for it to end where it does, but I figured 4,000+ words is good enough for a chapter so I'll just quit while I'm ahead. 8D;;
> 
> So that being said, If there's any blaring obvious oopsies, please to be ignoring them and don't let me know (cry cry D;) because I've been staring at this for WAY too long and I just need to move on to the next part of the story before I go crazy -_-;v haaaaa. It's going to be like that chapter a couple posts ago where I know its not my BEST and it can be totally better, but hey, if you wanted an update, you got it. ;Pv
> 
> SooooooOOOoo yeah. Hope you guys like this and i hope what happens in this chapter makes up for the wait 8D;? 
> 
>  
> 
>  ***Please note:*** The rating in this chapter is higher than the Teen one I have listed for the overall fic.  
>  I'm not sure if I should change the main rating or not yet, I might just keep giving you a heads-up for whatever chapter needs it. (unless, someone thinks I should change it? I've seen other authors do the 'notify as you go' thing, so...)

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

Wednesday night, Steve’s phone rang at a very inopportune time as he was playing a video game. Blindly patting around the sofa for the trilling piece of technology, he didn’t break his eyes away from the screen as he answered it.

“Hello?”” Steve cradled the phone against his shoulder, swearing as a quick time event popped up on the screen and he mashed the buttons as fast as he could. “Shit!” Steve swore as he missed a prompt; he watched his character fall and tumble. “Shit crap damnit-“

 _“Whatta mouth, do I need to go get the soap?”_ the voice on the other end teased. Bucky.

“Just-hold on a second before I die,” Steve let the phone drop, cursing that he couldn’t halt the game until the event was completed. A minute later Steve hit the pause button and the menu popped up. Heaving a sigh of relief, he reached back over for the phone.

“I’m back, sorry Buck.”

“ _You’d better be nerd,”_ Bucky teased. “ _What are you playing?”_

“A new game that just came out _,_ ” Steve supplied. “It’s really cool, it’s about these kids that go up to a resort thing in the woods and-“

_“There’s a maniac running around offing them.”_

“How’d you know?” Steve was puzzled.

“ _Lucky guess,”_ Bucky said dryly. “ _You’re crazy.”_

“Oh come on, it’s fun,” Steve argued as he leaned back on the sofa, pulling his legs up to stretch them out. “I’ll get you to watch a horror movie one day, just you wait.”

“ _Don’t you threaten me.”_

“What if I promised to hold your hand?” Steve grinned at the groan he heard in his ear.

“ _Bribery, Steve? I thought you were better than that.”_

Swinging his legs off the couch, Steve moved to grab his water bottle. “It’s called incentive, Buck,” he laughed as he stood up and walked in to the kitchen.

“ _I’d need a better incentive than hand-holding. You’d have to—wait. I’m on to your little scheme. Get me all vulnerable, lower my guard and then you’d have your wicked way with me. You **scoundrel**.”_

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes as he grabbed the ice tray from the freezer. “If I wanted to do that, I doubt I’d have to resort to using horror movies.”

“If? _What do you mean **if**? You don’t want to have your wicked way with me, Steve? I’m hurt.”_

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve corrected as he filled his bottle, the ice cracking.

“ _Oh come on, you’re saying you’ve never thought about it before?”_ Bucky’s voice was low now, a sly grin lacing the tone.

Steve froze and felt his cheeks heating up as that voice seeped into his brain, moving slowly down his spine. _Well, this conversation took a hard turn that he hadn’t been expecting_...

“ _I’ve thought about **you** , you know.”_

“Y-you have?” he fumbled with the lid of his bottle as he screwed it back on.

 _“Uh huh,”_ the voice purred in his ear, clearly enjoying putting Steve on edge like he was. “ _Mostly about what you look like when--”_

Steve’s brain shorted out and the bottle slipped from his fingers, dropping to the floor with a loud crack and then rolled across the linoleum to stop against the fridge.

“ _What was that? You ok?”_

“Yeah!” Steve blurted out, voice shrill as he dove at the bottle picking it up tightly in his fingers. “Fine! Totally fine. Better than fine, I’m great, everything’s great…”He rambled. _Smooth, Steve. Super smooth._ He smacked his forehead with his hand—forgetting that he was _still holding the bottle_ and it hit up against his face and into his glasses, smooshing them awkwardly into his face.

There was a small pause before Bucky spoke again, and Steve could just _tell_ that he was struggling not to laugh. “ _Steve, am I making you uncomfortable?”_

“What? No!”

The hearty laugh that came from the other end was clearly amused as all hell, but he took pity on Steve and changed the subject. “ _Ok look, I called because I was wondering if you wanted to come over tomorrow, put those building skills to use. I ordered some shelves and they came yesterday._ ”

“Sure,” Steve cleared his throat. “I get off work at two though, I can come after that?”

“ _That sounds great.”_

 

 

 

The next day when Steve arrived at Bucky’s, a large delivery truck that had been double parked in the street was just pulling away from the curb. It took a moment for Bucky to come to the door and when it opened, Steve’s jaw almost dropped down to his chest; The brunette had forgone shaving --probably since the last time they had seen each other-- and Steve realized that he’d nearly forgotten all about the rough-looking Train Bucky.

“Hey,” The scruffy face split into a wide smile as he moved aside to let Steve enter. “How was work?

“Good,” Steve cleared his throat as he set his bags down. “Sam accidentally locked himself in the cooler.”

Bucky let out a sharp laugh. “What? How’d he do _that?_ ”

“I have no idea,” Steve shrugged his jacket off, snickering. “But it was hilarious. Logan had to pop off the hinges of the door to get him out.”

“Man, I miss everything,” Bucky pouted, eyes fixing onto the extra bag curiously. ”What’s that for?”

“Tools,” Steve said simply. “I figured you didn’t have any.”

“You figured right,” Bucky rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I don’t think I even have a tape measure?”

Steve tsked playfully. “Well, I guess I know what to get you for a housewarming gift…” He eyed the entrance hall, taking stock of the mass amount of boxes that were piled next to the staircase. “Where’d all _those_ come from?”

“From in here,” Bucky’s hand waved at the closed dark wood doors to the left of them. “It’s gonna be my studio. I had to move them out to make room for the piano.”

Steve’s eyes lit up at the idea, eagerly following the other into the room. The heavy table from the living room was centered in the middle, the piano in the far corner. Two long boxes were propped up near the windows and Steve instantly knew what they were, making his way towards them.

“This the stuff you want to put up in here?” He eyed the pictures that were stickered to the sides. They were simple book shelves, but he had to give credit to the other on the choice of the wood; it fit with the rest of the house.

Bucky nodded, moving to stand next to him. “I figured maybe we can start in here, and then move onto the living room. I bought an entertainment center thing but it’s probably gonna need all the floor space to put it together. I had the delivery guys put everything out of the way.”

Steve shot him a curious look. “What _did_ they deliver, anyway?”

An excited grin covered Bucky’s face, and he stuck a thumb out over his shoulder towards the living rom. “Ya wanna see?”

 

 

As he entered the living room, Steve noted that on either end of the space there were heavily plastic and taped masses. He watched Bucky approach one of the lumps that was crammed up against the kitchen island like a kid on Christmas morning, ripping into it and cackling when he finally reached the last layer of protective layering to reveal a dark leather sofa.

For the second time in less than five minutes, Steve had to hand to the pianist again; he knew how to pick out good furniture.

“Well?” Bucky turned, ripping his eyes away from his new baby to look at Steve. “Whaddya think?”

Steve approached, stepping around the mess of discarded plastic and twisted tape. He gave a low whistle as his hand passed over the smooth plush leather. “Nice. Matching set?” he glanced at the other end of the room.

“Yup,” he smiled as he seated himself in the center of the large piece of furniture, letting out a low moan that sounded almost _indecent_.

“Comfy?” Steve smirked, ignoring the small flip-flop that his stomach did.

Bucky pated the free space next to him.

Chuckling, Steve sat down, letting their legs press up against each other comfortably. Then he realized what the other was _talking_ about.

He blinked. “Oh. _Wow_ …”

“Right?” Bucky sighed. “I think this is the best thing I’ve ever bought. Hands down.”       

“I might have to agree with you on that,” Steve hummed, letting his eyes fall shut as the body next to him sank further down into the cushions, legs sprawling out. They sat in silence like that for some time as both their heads leaned back onto the smooth leather. The fridge in the kitchen kicked on, a pleasant buzzing filling the now not-so-empty room. It snapped Steve out of the small doze he’d melted into; he took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to separate from the marshmallow-like comfort.

He reached out, patting at Bucky’s knee before standing up. “Ok, time to get to work.” The grunt Steve got in response was expected, and the brunette was still sprawled out on the couch defiantly.

“C’mon, Buck,” Steve chided

He pouted up at him, eyes narrowing in a silent challenge. _I dare you._

Steve sighed, raising his arms up over his head to stretch. “Well alright,” he shrugged, letting his arms swing back down. “I guess I really don’t need your help anyway.”

Bucky’s head had lifted, and the narrowed eyes had shifted from Challenge Mode into something a little more…calculating.

“I mean…” Steve couldn’t fight back the grin anymore. “If what you’re like in the kitchen is anything to go by…“

A sharp inhale and Bucky’s brow arched him. “You know Rogers, you talk an awful lot of shit for someone who’s so ticklish.”

Bucky had looked so completely relaxed that the moment that he sprang up to lunge for him, Steve was more than a little surprised. Letting out an undignified yelp, he dodged and felt fingers just barely graze the sleeve of his shirt as he headed to the other room in retreat.

“Get back here you wuss!”

Steve couldn’t contain his laughter as he ran around the heavy table, feeling safer with some sort of obstacle between them. He eyed the other man as he approached the room, stopping at the doorway.

Bucky gave him a hard look, and hooked a finger at him. “C’mere.”

“Hell no,” Steve shook his head as laughter bubbled up over the words. He gripped the edge of the table, ready to move to either side if the other decided to come after him. And come for him, he did; ambling up to the other side of the table, smirking as his finger walked along the surface.

Adrenaline rushed through Steve as they faced off, waiting for the other to make a move. Bucky finally broke and darted around the table and….fell flat onto his face.

Wincing, Steve peered over the edge of the table. “…..Buck?”

A long groan came up from the floor and he rolled over. Steve snickered, coming around the table, leery of getting too close _just_ yet.

Bucky sat up and shot a glare up at him, small tint of red on his cheeks as he rubbed at his nose. “Glad you’re so concerned,” He grumbled.

“Ok ok, I’m sorry,” Steve coughed, clearing his throat, attempting to keep his face straight as he knelt down beside the brunette. “Are you alright?” It seemed that the other’s pride was more damaged than anything else, and Steve was having trouble keeping a straight face at the childish pout the other was wearing. “Where does it hurt?” he cooed playfully, grinning; if he was going to act like a little kid….

Bucky scowled at him, and then pointed to a spot near his eyebrow. “Here.”

Steve leaned forward and planted a kiss to the spot with a smirk. The way Bucky’s eyes widened almost comically was priceless.

“And here,” he said slowly, pointing this time to his cheekbone.

Steve rolled his eyes, but placed another kiss anyway.

Then Bucky tapped at his lower lip, looking as if he was mustering up the best ‘wounded puppy’ face that he could. “And right here.”

Steve snorted in amusement, shaking his head. “Smooth.”

Bucky gave him a cocky grin. “I’d like to think so.” He leaned back on his hands, looking expectantly over at him.

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Steve rolled his eyes and leaned over, pressing his lips in a kiss that was just as brief as the previous two. However Bucky had other ideas-of course-and the next thing Steve knew he was straddling the other’s lap and was being kissed thoroughly. All he could do was just hold on for the ride, digging his fingers in messy brown hair as stubble tickled and scratched against his skin.

 

 

 

After Steve finally got Bucky to let him go, he began the process of cutting open the boxes in the soon-to-be studio, his hair slightly disheveled, his lips a pleasant tingly numb. As he unloaded the boxes he realized that the stuff that Bucky ordered? Was _not_ some cheap IKEA-like product. They were actually pretty durable and heavy, and he had some trouble pulling the long side pieces out of the box as it was a good foot taller than him.

While he was flipping through the instructions, preparing to start, a loud screech broke over the music streaming from the laptop set up near the doorway.

“HOLY SHIT!”

Dropping the booklet, Steve looked up at Bucky with wide eyes. “What!? What is it?!”

“That!!” Bucky was pointing frantically to something, and Steve looked to his right to see a _cockroach_ that was at least two inches long skittering across the floor. Bucky was already starting to chase after it, motioning to the scissors in Steve’s hand. “Gimme those!”

Steve blinked. “What? Buck, that’s not going to-“

Bucky grabbed the scissors from him, leaving Steve to sit and watch, cringing with every chop of the blades.

“Hah!” The brunette stood triumphantly with the wriggling insect caught in the blades. But then it squirmed so hard that it _cut itself in half_ and the two pieces fell to the floor. _Still crawling._

Steve didn’t feel one bit unmanly about the strangled scream he let out, because _Bucky did the same damn thing._

“Just squish it!” Steve clambered to his feet to avoid one of the crawling halves that was coming towards him.

Bucky stamped on the pieces of insect several times, the weird crunching sounds making Steve gag a little. When the threat was annihilated, they stared at one another, out of breath and wide-eyed. Then Steve began to laugh.

“Steve, it’s not funny!” Bucky growled. "Where’d that thing even fucking come from?” he demanded, a visible shudder going through him as he tossed the scissors back down next to Steve.

“It probably hitched a ride in one of the boxes,” Steve was still chuckling under his breath as he wiped at his eyes, picking the booklet back up as Bucky went to collect the body with a tissue. “Remember Buck, for every one you see, there’s a hundred more…”

The wadded up tissue sailed at his face and Steve _shrieked_ , batting it away frantically.

Then it was _Bucky’s_ turn to laugh.

 

 

Steve had made quick work of the project in the studio, and by late afternoon he’d moved on to the living room. Bucky hadn’t been kidding; the entertainment wall unit was _massive._ A heavy dark wood, just like the rest of the house; carved detail on the thick shelf facings, and some of the doors even had glass paneling. If Steve wasn’t the one taking it out of the box and assembling it himself, he would have guessed at first glance that the thing was an actual antique. He didn’t even need to look over the instructions to realize that Bucky had been right, this was probably going to be a _lot_ more involved than the other stuff he’d bought.

Just as Steve had gotten the general frame work done, he heard Bucky make a noise. Glancing up from his work, he fully expected another cockroach freak out but he only set down the box he had been carrying, heading over to the laptop to turn it up.

“Buck-“Steve stopped himself. He was _going_ to say ‘be mindful of the neighbors’ but there were no neighbors. At least, none that could hear some turned-up music. A weird sense of freedom rushed through Steve; He’d never been in a place where you could just pretty much do what you wanted. Everyone he’d ever been friends with or known always had apartments, and it made Steve a little jealous.

Bucky was _dancing_ now _._ And not that weird half dancing that normal people did in jest, but full-on steps and twists, and his hip did a little pop as he continue to groove along back to the doorway for another box, catching Steve’s eyes as he threw his head back dramatically with the music before he backed out of the room.

With a huff of laughter under his breath, Steve shook his head and grabbed up the instruction booklet for the millionth time. He’d followed the first six steps perfectly, but the way the next one was illustrated made absolutely _no_ sense whatsoever. The spot that the TV was supposed to be in was supposed to be wider than what it was right now and well, it _wasn’t._

Bucky chose at that moment to re-enter the room with another box. “Problem?” he called over, moving to set the box down with the half dozen others and knelt down to rummage through it.

“Nope,” Steve replied defiantly. He was _not_ going to get beaten by this. Besides, Bucky would never let him live it down what with the gloating he’d done earlier.

Bucky said nothing, and the rummaging sounds of hands digging around in the box stopped. Steve didn’t pay any mind, still completely engrossed in the diagrams some poor schmuck had to draw out for a living until another sound grabbed his attention; a throat clearing. Looking up, he found that Bucky was kneeling in front of him, pouting.

Steve blinked. “What is it?”

The instruction booklet was pulled from Steve’s hands, tossed it into the mess of shelving.

“You need a break.”

Steve huffed, glancing over to the area where the instructions were thrown and now _he_ was pouting. “Do not. I got this.”

“Ok, then _I_ need a break.”

Steve found himself flat on his back as Bucky loomed over him, wearing playful smile. Steve groaned into the kiss that followed, dropping the screwdriver that he’d been holding onto; it clattered onto the floor and rolled away as he slipped his arms around Bucky’s neck, threading his fingers into his hair.

Bucky’s eyes were completely dilated as he looked down at him, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before ducking his head back down to suck at Steve’s neck, rocking his hips against the blonde’s thigh.

“Jesus Buck,” Steve breathed as felt a hand pushing his shirt up. The hand slipped under to splay out over his chest, fingers brushing over each nipple before retreating back down to smooth over his stomach. His head fell back with a sigh as a careful nip was delivered to his collar bone.

Then Steve felt fingers popping open the button of his jeans and he jumped so hard he nearly kneed the body hovering over him in a very important place.

Bucky back off instantly, hand freezing as he looked down worriedly at him. “This ok?”

“Uh…yeah,” Steve swallowed. His voice was hoarse and he licked his swollen lips, wondering when he’d started to breathe so heavily. He needed to take it easy because going into an asthma attack while fooling around was _not_ sexy.

“I can stop,” Bucky offered. “Really, Steve-“

“No! No,” Steve’s stomach trembled under the warm hand that was rubbing in an attempt to soothe, however it was anything _but_ soothing. It was downright distracting and Steve desperately wanted to be focused and coherent. “But…”

Bucky let out a small huff of a laugh and then he smiled. “Ok. But?”

Steve shifted under him, a tiny feeling of embarrassment surfacing. “It’s just….kind of been awhile. So I’m a little….uh…”

“What, sensitive?” Bucky’s eyes lit up with an almost downright _devious_ glow. A small whimper escaped from Steve’s throat as he nodded up at the other.

“Baby steps then,” Bucky purred in response. “I can totally work with that….”

The statement made Steve’s eyes roll back into his head with wonder about what the other _meant_ by that as another kiss was planted onto his lips, lingering a moment before fingers finished undoing his jeans. Wasting no time, the other hooked his fingers into belt loops and tugged.

Steve watched Bucky’s gaze carefully, and the small twitch at the corner of his mouth made Steve wonder what was so _funny._ He followed the brunette’s gaze, and realized with slight horror what underwear he was wearing. Really, all he had to see was the bright ugly powder blue color to remember the word “ _#swagger_ ” was repeated in block white letters over the material. Steve let the back of his head thud against the floor, throwing an arm over his face as he groaned in embarrassment. The briefs had been a gag gift from Clint last Christmas, and sure they were stupid but hey, underwear was underwear…

Bucky was trying to not laugh as his fingers played with the elastic, snapping it lightly against Steve’s hip playfully.

“Oh shut up,” Steve shot back, muffled by his arm.

“I didn’t say a word,” Bucky protested warmly as his fingers pulled Steve’s arm down. “Not really doing this for the underwear anyway, so….” he leant back down, hand slipping under the elastic to grip the more than half-hard cock underneath and Steve _shuddered_. He hadn’t been lying when he said it’d been awhile; and having someone else touch him…how had he forgotten _this_? His hips pushed up into the hand again, gripping Bucky’s arms tightly as the smiling mouth swallowed the gasp of air that pushed out from his lungs.

The hand continued to tease and caress as lips latched onto Steve’s neck once again, and by the time Bucky pulled Steve free from the confines of his underwear he was hard and leaking into the hand. Another long slow stroke, thumb sliding over the head as Bucky bit his lip, trying to hide the leering grin. “Wow, all for me huh?” He repeated the careful drag of fingers, watching his hand move over Steve’s flesh with a fixed fascination.

Steve had never seen _Bucky_ flushed and bothered before, and he _liked it_. He nodded, moaning as felt the lips moving to his neck again, hissing when a puff of cold air was blown on a patch of wet skin.

“Buck,” he breathed out. “I’m gonna-“He was cut off as Bucky grunted, ripping his mouth away from his neck, catching Steve’s gaze with excited and greedy eyes. His hand moved with a more determined pace and all Steve could do was lay there and stare up at him, keening and moaning while clinging to him, struggling to breathe as his chest heaved against his pounding heart.

“This is what I was gonna tell you last night,” Bucky licked his lips as he continued to stare down at Steve, taking it all in. “This is what I think about. What your face looks like when you’re like this.”

The words shot up Steve’s spine and he moaned loudly, body going taut as he released into Bucky’s hand. Another sharp strangled cry ripped from his throat as he shook so hard with his release that his head hit back against the floor again in a painful collision that made him see an entirely different set of stars.

Bucky didn’t stop. Steve’s mouth fell open in a silent cry as he dug his fingers into Bucky’s arms, an over sensitized and boneless mess against the cool floor as the brunette made him give up every bit that he had to offer. When the hand had finally ceased, pulling away, Steve was vaguely aware of the other leaning back over him as warm breath flitted over his face.

“You ok?”

Steve’s hands slid off of Bucky. Lightheaded, the slight embarrassment of not lasting very long waned when he heard the teasing in the voice. He didn’t feel one bit bad anymore. He opened his mouth to tell him so but all that came out was a half coherent sentence that was a breathless and slurred jumble.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled, pressing his lips against Steve’s throat, pecking along until reaching his lips.

“You jerk,” Steve panted against the mouth, hands limply reaching back up to tug at Bucky’s shirt to keep him close.

“Do you need your inhaler?”

“Maybe…?” Steve swallowed, tilting his head. The word was enough to make the other man spring into action, scrambling back and going to the front door where Steve had dumped his bag earlier. He felt a whine leave his throat at the sudden departure, kicking himself because he should have said no. _What a way to kill the moment, Rogers._

 

The piece of plastic was shoved into Steve’s hands as Bucky helped him sit up. “Shit I’m sorry Steve,” Bucky rambled. “I didn’t think or _plan_ that, I shoulda thought about-“

“Don’t be sorry, I liked it,” Steve said quickly as he put the mouthpiece to his lips, taking a breath as he shot the medication into his lungs. And he _did_ ; he was pleasantly messed up and tingly, still feeling the spots on his skin that had been sucked or bitten a little too hard.

“Not enough to _die_ from it,” Bucky argued, hand rubbing at Steve’s back.

Steve snorted. “I’m not gonna _die_ ,” he assured before he took another shot from his inhaler. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Steve, to _me_ it’s a big deal, ok?”

“I’m _fine,_ Buck,” he reassured. “I just….sorta forgot to breathe,” he added sheepishly.

“Usually I would _like_ hearing something like that,” Bucky muttered as he leaned over. He pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips. “Look, stay put and I’ll go get something to clean you up with.”

Steve looked down at himself. _Oh. Yeah._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well..........I hope nothing was too poorly written/awkward/not credible/whatever. I tried! ;( I didn't wanna be too detailed to take away from the fluffy!sweet that this fic has had, but I didn't want to be TOO vauge because that can be just as bad, amirite? 0_o;; 
> 
>  
> 
> **The cockroach thing I cannot take full credit for because I remember reading a blog post from a band I used to follow, and that shit really happened to them one time. Don't ask me why they thought scissors were a good idea for catching it. (bonus points if you know what band I'm talking about, LOL)
> 
> **And then I realized on a re-read, that the one scene is a total rip off from something in Indiana Jones. oops! here I thought I was being creative ;P I'M LEAVIN IT THO. PFFFFT.
> 
>  
> 
> also updated the mix with 3? 3. tracks 8D; [HERE](http://8tracks.com/redroses1791/a-mix-that-goes-with-something-else) Basically what I think Bucky had going on his laptop. yup. Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen is like, one of the super sexiest songs ever, if anything just go find that and listen to it while reading this chapter, ok? 8D; (Its on the Dirty Dancing soundtrack)


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Has he ever done a bad job?” Natasha spoke up from the spot at the island that she’d moved to. “If he does screw it up, I’ll punch him for you.”
> 
> “The love and trust I’m feeling from you guys right now is just so overwhelming," Clint chirped sarcastically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off lemme say that this chapter was going to hold a LOT more. But, between 
> 
> -Me just wanting to post something since it's been a couple weeks  
> -Drawing this out because why the hell not you guys seem to be eating this up(?)  
> -Not wanting to put too much into one chapter to where I'd get to the point of it becoming a hassle/not-so-fun, and glaze over certain areas where I know I'd like to really focus on. I dun wanna get lazy and I already feel like I have on this chapter what with some time jumps and short scenes.
> 
> so here we are, chapter 9 omg, omg. I never thought it'd get this far, and basically its because of you guys. (xoxo!) I wasn't really planning on this chapter? at least, most of it anyway. Some of it's just filler and scenes I liked coming up with, and some stuff having to do with the overall plot/whatever I have in mind and building up for that. At least it'll at least tide you over until next time. I'm shooting for a week, like always, but again if I take longer don't spazz out or nothin' ;)

CHAPTER NINE

“You want another beer?”

It had been over an hour after Bucky’s idea of a _break_ , and now they were sitting among the parts and tools of the half-finished entertainment unit with beer bottles and a box of pizza between them.

Steve shook his head as he leaned back against the wall, his attention on the instruction booklet again. “Nah. Any more and I won’t be able to focus.”

“If you say so, lightweight,” Bucky chuckled. “I’m gonna get one though.” He reached out and gripped Steve’s bent knee, giving it a little shake before he stood. “Be right back.”

As the other took off towards the kitchen, Steve huffed quietly and dropped the instructions to remove his glasses, wiping at the lenses with his shirt. He was starting to get sleepy. But, he supposed a full stomach and some alcohol could be to blame for that. And the activities from a certain unanticipated moment earlier in the evening probably didn’t help, either. Not that he was going to complain about _that_.

Well, one thing he could complain about was that Bucky pretty much ‘noped’ out of continuing on with anything after the little asthma scare. The other had sworn up and down it wasn’t because of that, that he’d genuinely enjoyed himself just fine and just had wanted to make Steve feel good. But he didn’t really buy it. That telling bulge was still visible in the other’s jeans for a good fifteen minutes after the fact, and Steve felt pretty lousy when he realized that he’d really actually freaked Bucky out so badly to ignore a _problem_ such as that.

He wiped a hand over his face and peeked over the edge of the box he was sitting next to. He wasn’t surprised in the least to find a few video game cases--for a system that was opposite of his, much to his dismay—as well as some DVDs and….CDs? Snorting, Steve reached into the box to grab at one. Who the hell bought CDs anymore?

He wasn’t exactly current when it came to knowing mainstream music. But even _he_ knew what album it was, thanks to the cover art being plastered repeatedly on billboards and subway advertising spots for _weeks_ when it had been released. He was just a little surprised that Bucky had anything by insanely popular singer/songwriter _Brock Rumlow_. He glanced into the box again and noted that the other CDs were also his as well.

“Watcha got there?” Bucky’s voice spoke over him. Steve looked up, album still in his hand. The brunette’s smiling curious face fell into something that was near emotionless. “Oh.”

An uneasy feeling rose in Steve’s stomach and he shrugged, giving the other a timid smile. “Didn’t peg you as a fan?” he offered up helplessly. He went to put the case back in the box but Bucky’s reached out in silent request to pass it to him.

As he did so, Steve was unable to tell why Bucky seemed to get so upset so suddenly. Was it because he was going through his stuff? Or was it because he was embarrassed to have something like that lying around? He quickly dismissed the second idea. In the last few hours, the array of music that had been coming from the laptop had contained more than one _Abba_ song, and if a grown adult was going to be embarrassed about _any_ of his musical choices…

Bucky flipped the case over, eyeing over the back of it for a minute before his gaze turned back to Steve. “I’m not,” Came the stiff reply.

Steve frowned, not entirely understanding the blunt answer. “Oh. Then….”

The CD made a sharp clack against the other contents of the box when Bucky tossed it back down. Steve watched him take a drink from his beer, and he seemed to contemplate something for a moment.

“I wrote the damn thing,” he said in a rush, like he was confessing something horrible.

“ _What_?”

Bucky made a motion to the box with his hand. “Yeah. All three, actually. Every single track for that narcissistic delusional asshole.”

Steve remembered what Bucky had told him a couple of weeks ago in that very same room; _“You don’t think everyone writes their own music even if they say they do, do you?”_

He looked up at the brunette, his brain trying to wrap around the fact that Bucky’s work was on _that_ kind of a scale _._ Granted he hadn’t really given much thought about what he had meant when he said ‘wrote for a guy in L.A.’, but….

“That’s….that’s amazing, Buck,” He wasn’t entirely sure what to say, but _that_ seemed to be the wrong thing though somehow, as the other’s frown deepened.

Bucky only shrugged. “S’not that amazing,” he answered before he took another drink.

Something rushed through Steve and he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Bucky didn’t _care?_ Didn’t he like his own work? Well, aside from that fact that someone else was getting the credit for it. Do most artists really even like their own work? He had no idea. Maybe the reaction Bucky was giving was normal for someone in his profession.

Steve retrieved the CD from the box again and held it up, not willing to let it go just yet. He wanted to understand. “It went _platinum_ didn’t it? Your work got that many sales and that’s not something awesome?” he asked carefully.

Bucky just stood there, saying nothing. Steve felt like he was scolding a little kid about something and it clicked; Bucky wasn’t angry about anything, he was _ashamed._ He was more confused than before now, but it didn’t matter anymore. He quickly tried to backtrack himself out of the mess he’d started to make.

“Look, I’m sorry Buck. If you don’t want to t-“

“Don’t apologize,” Bucky cut him off calmly. “I figured I was going to have to tell you at some point, I just….” He scratched at his stubble-covered cheek. “I didn’t think it’d be right now _._ ”

Relief rushed through Steve, but the question still begged; _tell him what?_ “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” he offered. He was given an amused look and Bucky let out a small incredulous laugh.

“Steve you’ve been a saint about not prying about what I do— _did,_ ” Bucky corrected himself as he turned to sit down next to him with a heavy sigh.

“A couple of years ago, I got picked up by this producer from Los Angeles,” he started out slow, as if he were reciting it from a piece of paper. “I got swept up in the glamor and shit the guy pitched.” Bucky took another drink of his beer. “I dropped everything and moved out there to work under his label. I thought I had a real good thing going, I really thought this guy was looking out for me ya know?”

Shifting closer, Steve pulled his legs up and rested his arms on his knees. “Then what happened?”

“ _Brock Rumlow_ happened.” Bucky’s jaw visibly clenched. “I wrote his first single. Then before I knew it I’d written the first album within a few weeks. When it came out they marketed him as a _singer-songwriter_.”

“They could do that?”

Bucky shrugged. “I was stupid. I didn’t read the fine print of my contract, they cut me the cheapest deal they could and dressed it up to make it look fancy. I also can’t tell anyone I even _worked_ for them. They can sue my ass into the dark ages if I do…” He reached over and took the case back from Steve, studying the cover. “Having a three-year gap in your portfolio without any reason you can give really hurts,” he muttered quietly.

“So why didn’t you just quit?” Steve frowned. “Why’d you stay?”

“I had to stay and keep writing complete _trash_ like this because that’s what I promised them when I signed on,” He threw the case back into the box again and Steve cringed a little when he heard some of the plastic crack. “When my contract ended I didn’t look back.”

There was a brief silence, and Steve spoke up quietly. “And now you’re here,” He finished off for him.

Bucky looked over at him. His jaw unclenched and his hard gaze softened. “Yeah,” he agreed with a small nod. “I’m here. And things are pretty damn amazing now.”

The insinuation of the other’s words weren’t lost to Steve, and he felt himself smiling as he leaned his head onto the brunette’s shoulder in attempt to comfort him. “Why you were so worried about telling me?” he asked quietly. “What’d you think I was gonna say?”

“You don’t think I’m an idiot? A joke?”

Steve pulled his head back. _Did Bucky really feel that way?_ “You’re not a joke, Buck,” he spoke softly, reaching out to comb his fingers through the other’s hair and pulling it off his forehead, away from his eyes. “You’d have to do something really _really_ stupid for me to think that.”

A smile slowly came to Bucky’s lips, shoulders lowering; Steve hadn’t realized that he’d been so tense the entire time. Bucky then leaned over, twisting his head to give him a slow, warm kiss.

“Thanks Steve.”

 

 

 

It was a little after eleven when Steve finally finished attaching the last cabinet door of the wall unit. Standing up with a proud sigh, he looked over the finished product and confirmed that yeah, the effort had definitely been worth the frustration and loss of sleep. Now he just had to go and get Bucky. He’d banned the other from helping him maybe nearly an hour so ago, after he kept getting in the way.

Steve had felt a bit guilty about being so short with him, since the other had spent a good ten minutes grumbling about it while unwrapping the other sofa and chair. But when those grumbles had turned into playfully suggestive observations every time Steve leaned or crawled for something, the guilt was quickly replaced by slightly aroused irritated embarrassment; he had only successfully shut Bucky up when he’d thrown a screwdriver at him, completely red-faced, and made the cackling musician go into the studio.

Bucky had been at the piano since then, the doors having been left open so that the notes flowed out into the house. Steve had quietly gone and shut the laptop almost immediately after, enjoying that he was finally being able to listen to the other’s playing now that it wasn’t muted or being talked over in a crowded room. The music itself was livelier now, something _more_ in it than what he’d only heard at the restaurant.

He approached the room quietly, leaning against the frame as he watched Bucky’s straight-postured back only slightly swaying while his fingers moved over the keys. It was completely obvious that Bucky enjoyed playing and Steve had to admit, it was pretty damn hot.

When the music gracefully ended, Bucky’s hands carefully went into his lap for a moment before swinging his legs around the bench to face Steve. “Am I allowed to go back in there now?” he crossed his arms with a pout.

Steve rolled his eyes. “ _Yes,_ ” he replied as he moved into the room, noting that the shelves from earlier were filled with books and papers now. Bucky had definitely not wasted any time. He stopped next to the piano, looking at the sheet music that had been propped up. The black dots, the squiggles and various other symbols were a complete mystery to him. It was a little crazy to think that Bucky could just _look_ at those markings and know what note to play, and how, to make lines and dots sound so beautiful. “I really liked that last song,” he complimented as his eyes fell onto the plastic dinosaur figure that was placed on the edge of the space next to the music. “It was pretty…” He reached out and picked up the little stegosaurus, smiling a little to himself and turning it over in his hands as he remembered the day that the brunette had insisted on getting it.

Bucky hummed. “Thanks. It’s one of my favorites, too...”

Steve felt a tug on his elbow and he let himself be pulled back to sit on Bucky’s leg. Clarence was pulled from his hands and set back up onto the piano and then a stubble-ridden cheek was pressed to just under his jaw. His lips drifted over Steve’s neck as he spoke again. “You don’t have to work in the morning, right?”

His head fell back onto Bucky’s shoulder as those lips pressed light kisses up to his ear; his hands gripped the arm that had come around his waist to keep him steady. “Most definitely have to,” Steve was reluctant to say it, and then there was a small bit of teeth on his skin. The hand that had been slipping to the inside of his thigh stopped.

“You should have said something,” the lightly scolding tone was in his ear. “You didn’t have to stay this late working on my crap.”

Steve bit back a yawn, covering it with a small cough. “It’s fine.” Well, maybe not _fine…_ if he left right now he’d get home in time to get maybe four hours of sleep. “Besides, if I left it half done you would have tried to finish it and we both know how _that_ would have gone….”

“Oh hardy har har. I’m not _that_ hopeless.”

“This is true, you know what a tape measure is.”

Bucky’s disgruntled groan was muffled as he pressed his cheek onto Steve’s shoulder. “You’re lucky I’m tired, punk. Otherwise you’d be _preeeetty_ sorry right about now.” He delivered a light slap to Steve’s leg, and then nudged him to stand up. “Alright. Show me what you got done in the living room.”

 

 

He’d insisted on helping Bucky move the sofas around after he had finished raving about how awesome of a job Steve had done. “ _You can’t do it alone, Buck, you’ll hurt yourself,”_ he had argued, and it was past midnight when he finally had packed up all his tools and was slipping his jacket on in the entry hall.

Bucky reached out to fix his collar as he adjusted the strap of his bag around his chest. “Thanks for coming over,” he smiled tiredly. “I really wish you didn’t have to work, I probably would have asked you to stay over…”the sly smile matched the look in the brunette’s eyes and Steve chuckled, noting that those hands hadn’t moved from fixing his collar yet.

A spark of adrenaline shot through Steve as one of those warm hands moved around to the nape of his neck, fingers sliding into his hair. Humming quietly, Steve smiled as the fingertips massaged into his scalp. It gave him the encouragement to lean up on his toes and move his face closer to Bucky’s. “I probably would have.”

He groaned when Bucky leaned forward and crushed their mouths together; a tongue curling around his as Steve was pushed back against the door with a heavy _thunk._ He really hated to even _think_ of the word but he had no other replacement for it--He…he _swooned._ Could guys do that? Apparently _he_ could. His toes were curling in his sneakers, his throat tightening at the overwhelming intensity that the other was giving off and it was _thrilling._

When the brunette quite literally tore himself away, he groaned from deep in his throat. Both of them were breathless and pink, and Bucky’s warm breath drifted across Steve’s face as he laughed.

“God damnit Steve,” he shook his head, voice thick with arousal. “Go home before I make you call in sick or somethin’.”

The threat in that tone nearly made Steve’s knees buckle and he was now grateful for the door behind him holding him up. Nodding, he cleared his throat as he slipped away from his spot between the door and the taller man--who had not moved an inch, despite his order-- and picked up his bags.

When Bucky opened the door for him, Steve didn’t fail to notice the tight white-knuckled grip the other had on the doorknob. Just before he crossed the threshold he turned back to the unkempt man, who was biting at his lower lip and looking like he was having more than a little trouble focusing. Steve wondered how differently things would have gone if he hadn’t opened his big mouth about work.

“G’night Buck.”

“Night Steve.”

 

 

 

When Steve’s alarm went off three hours later that morning, he felt like throwing the screeching piece of electronic out the window. You know, just to get the twisted satisfaction of watching it fall the three stories onto the sidewalk.

Dragging himself out of bed, he showered, dressed and headed out of his apartment in a zombie-like state, completely on autopilot as he continued down the stairs. By the time he entered the back door of _Bouclier,_ he felt a little more alert thanks to the small power nap he’d gotten on the ride over. But he was still probably going to break his resolve on the matter of ‘no coffee’ and attempt to sweet talk Loki into letting him snag some of the addicting beverage before he had to go out for morning set-up.

Once he’d changed, he made his way into the kitchen to seek out Loki, which wasn’t very difficult. The tall black haired figure was in his usual spot preparing for the day, knife in hand.

“Morning,” Steve greeted over the steady ticking of the knife on the board.

A grunt was given that was usually more Logan’s style, and with a quick glance at his face Steve realized that chef looked worse off than he did himself.

“….Rough night?”

Loki’s eyes drifted away from his work, the knife pausing, looking completely unamused at the question. “I could ask the same, as the bags under your eyes are nearly worse than my own,” he replied as he looked Steve over. “Full pot of coffee, over there,” He threw his head over to the far end of the kitchen. “Help yourself to it if you’d like.”

Grabbing a mug, Steve filled it with the hot brown liquid and tore open a couple sugar packets, pouring them in and stirring it carefully as Loki’s chopping filled the silence again. He walked back over to the counter with his cup, sipping it as he leaned against the edge.

“So…what were you up to last night?” Steve asked lightly, not feeling the usual cold air about the taller man as he usually did. Because he was too exhausted to read it or Loki was too tired to give it off, he didn’t know and didn’t really care. He was too tired to care.

“I was coerced into attending a party,” Loki replied, sliding his knife carefully to scrape the potato he’d been chopping aside and picking another one up. The first slice into it seemed vicious. “My date became rather inebriated by mid evening, I was essentially babysitting after that.”

He sounded irritated and bitter, and Steve couldn’t blame him.

“Ouch. Sounds like someone doesn’t get another date.”

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” Loki said dryly. “And yourself?” he glanced up briefly before returning his focus to his knife.

“Helping someone settle into their place,” Steve answered vaguely, watching Loki’s quick and precise movements with a fear-lined fascination. _Wasn’t it dangerous to chop while half-awake?_

“By ‘someone’, I assume you mean our rather talented pianist.” The corner of Loki’s mouth quirked up, not looking to Steve for conformation.

Steve nearly spit out the mouthful of coffee he’d just taken, swallowing it quickly as Loki chuckled. “However, you have no obligation to confirm or deny it,” Loki continued. “I’m ‘Switzerland’, as Barton would say.”

 _Don’t say a word about what I’ve told you, I won’t say a word about what you’ve told **me.**_ Steve found himself liking Loki more and more.

Somewhere, he could hear Sam and Clint screaming in terror.

Laughing quietly to himself, Steve lifted his cup. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Loki didn’t look up from his work. “You are most welcome.”

 

 

 

“Heyyyyyy sunshine!” Clint’s voice greeted out over the dining room as Steve entered. The bartender was leaning back in one of the chairs, balancing precariously on two of the legs. Steve scowled, but before he could open his mouth and yell at him to get off the chair the bartender continued.

“Is there a special reason you look like you didn’t get any sleep las night?” Clint gave him an award-winning smile. “Like say, you and a certain guy doing the horizontal mambo?”

“Remind me, why am I friends with you?” Steve deadpanned, giving the chair a shove with one finger as he walked by with the cart. He smiled with satisfaction at the shriek that Clint gave and then at the crash that followed directly after it.

He’d already grabbed a handful of silverware the sets off the cart and was placing them on the tables by the time the bartender had clambered up off the floor, muttering swears every other word under his breath while he did so.

“Ok, I guess I asked for that,” Clint rubbed the back of his head, then checked his hand for blood. “But please tell me I’m like, fifty bucks richer today?”

“I’d say I’m surprised that you’re in on the betting, but that would be a lie,” Steve huffed as he grabbed another handful of sets, moving onto the next table.

“Oh come on, it’s all in good fun!” the bartender argued.

“It’s _rude,_ is what it is, _”_ Natasha’s voice spoke up next to Clint and he gave another shriek, jumping back, his hip bumping into a table and making the glasses rattle around.

“Damnit Nat! Why do you do that all the freakin’ time?!”

Natasha ignored him. “Did you talk to him yet or have you been teasing him the whole time?”

“Talk to me?” Steve repeated, stopping his work and eyeing the couple suspiciously. “About what?”

“Your date’s Sunday, right?” the redhead asked.

“Yeah,” he answered slowly. “Why?”

Clint smirked. “You need a haircut, man.”

Among the many jobs Clint had had before coming to work as a bartender for _Bouclier,_ one had included working in a beauty salon at some point. Steve had never bothered to ask the details, but all he knew was that that’s how he’d ended up meeting Natasha.

“Wha-are you kidding?” Steve frowned. “Its fine…Isn’t it?” His eyes darted between his two closest friends.

“Eh,” Clint shrugged, reaching out to pick at the _slightly_ too long strands on Steve’s head. “Don’t you wanna look all hot for Bucky Boy?” the bartender made a kissy face.

Growling, he batted the picking hand away. “Will you knock it off!?”

“I’m serious! Come by after work and I’ll hook you up before I gotta be back here for my shift. I’ll make you look amazing, hand to God. Bucky won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”

“And you’ll magically win fifty bucks, right?” Steve gave him an even look.

“Well, possibly…”

Sighing heavily, he looked over at Natasha for help. She only arched her eyebrow at him in silence. It was obviously up to him.

“Fine.”

“Yay. See you guys later, then.” Clint gave Natasha a peck on the cheek and blew Steve one from his hand as he went back into the kitchen with a wiggle of his fingers.

“I really hate him sometimes,” Steve growled as grabbed another handful of silverware settings, placing them down on the table tops with sharp aggravated motions.

“You know he’s pulling for you,” Natasha answered neutrally, following behind him and setting the water glasses down. “Plus he’s totally got a man-crush on Bucky, I think he’d be the heartbroken one if you guys didn’t work out,” she smirked.

Steve’s mind wandered back to the night before. “I don’t think he has to worry about _that_ ,” he muttered under his breath before he could stop himself. _Oh good lord please let her not have heard that..._ Steve looked up warily. Natasha’s face was split into a grin.

“Oh?” she asked. “Details, please.”

“I’m _not_ discussing this stuff at work,” Steve sputtered as he quickly finished doing the last table, becoming increasingly mortified by the second.

“That good, huh?”

Steve was beet red and he refused to look at her. “I’m not saying anything. And if you tell Clint anything is up, I’ll….I dunno what I’d do, but I’d think of something!” he threatened as he rolled the cart back into the kitchen, firmly making up his mind he wasn’t going to blab. Nope. Not one word.

 

 

It was nearing late afternoon as Steve was sitting in a chair in Natasha and Clint’s kitchen, a cape draped over him as Clint sprayed his hair down with a water bottle.

“So. Last night, spill,” Natasha leaned against the counter across from him, a beer in hand as she studied him carefully.

Steve felt his ears heating and cursed that Natasha had enough foresight to corner him while he couldn’t _move._ And here he thought he’d escaped any kind of cross-examining when she hadn’t brought it up earlier in the morning. He should have known better.

 _“_ I don’t have to tell you _everything,_ you know,” he mumbled.

“Yes you do,” Clint answered for her absent-mindedly as he continued snipping here and there with the scissors. “And if you withhold information my hand just _might_ slip…”

“You wouldn’t _dare.”_

“Wouldn’t I?” Clint batted his lashes. “Maybe a nice bowl cut...” he snipped the scissors in the air for dramatic effect.

Steve gave an _almost_ play-by-play of yesterday evening, omitting of course certain parts. There was no way in hell that he was going to tell them—or anyone else, for that matter—the intimate details of the previous evening. He did however include the part when Bucky told him about his work in L.A.

“Shit, does this mean I have to chuck those CDs now?” Clint looked sullen at the idea.

Natasha threw him a look. “You downloaded them, Clint. Illegally, might I add.”

“Oh. yeah. Serves that asshole right, then!” he started the razor and Steve gaped.

“What the hell is that for?!” he yelped over the buzzing noise.

Clint stepped towards him. “Trust me, it’s gonna look really cool,” he assured.

Steve’s arms flew up to cover his head. “You are not _shaving_ anything!”

Clint looked pained and stamped a foot onto the linoleum floor. “But it’ll be _awesome_!” he whined. “You can totally rock the undercut thing, alright? Trust me.”

“Has he ever done a bad job?” Natasha spoke up from the spot at the island that she’d moved to during Steve’s storytelling. “If he does screw it up, I’ll punch him for you.”

“The love and trust I’m feeling from you guys right now is just _overwhelming_ ,” Clint chirped sarcastically.

Fifteen minutes later after, Clint removed the cape and dusted Steve off. He then slipped his glasses on to have a look, bracing himself before looking into the mirror. While the undercut wasn’t near as drastic as it could have been, it was certainly short enough to notice. If he was allowed to be a little vain, Steve thought it _did_ suit him rather nicely. _Another point for Clint in this area,_ his disgruntled admission rang in his mind.

“So? What you think? Nice?” Clint’s grinning face appeared in the mirror behind Steve.

He shrugged, fighting not to smile. “It’s fine,” in replied in an airy tone.

 _“Fine?!_ ” Clint demanded. “I have made you even cuter, asshole. And those glasses really make it! _Bucky_ ’s gonna be thanking me, at least,” He grumbled as he started to clean the razor and scissors in the sink.

“I like it,” Natasha nodded approvingly. “It’s a good change for you.”

Steve glanced into the mirror again. “You think so?”

She took a drink of her beer. “Yep.”

 

 

 

Saturday night rolled around and Steve had been on his shift for about two hours when Bucky had slipped into the dining room and seated himself at the piano. He looked as clean cut as ever, as if Thursday had been all in his head.

When he’d finished delivering orders his tables, he had a few moments to swing by the bar and pick up the drink that Clint had prepared for the pianist and deliver it.

“Hey Buck,” Steve placed a napkin onto the small patch of space on the piano, then the glass. Bucky was busy shuffling through his sheet music and hadn’t looked up at him yet. Steve bit at his lower lip, suddenly nervous.

“Hey yourself, how’re things tonight?” Bucky set some papers up onto the piano, arranging more into a neat pile before slipping them back into his satchel.

“Quiet,” Steve nodded. “But the bar rush should be coming soon. You get your living room all put together?”

“Yeah, I-“Bucky _finally_ looked up at him and he froze. “ _woah._ ”

The pianist was nearly gaping and the confidence that Steve had had was quickly ebbing as he stood there awkwardly.

“You don’t like it?”

“He’d _better_ like it!” Clint threatened over from the bar, having moved to the end nearest the piano to listen in while pretending to clean a glass with a pristine white towel.

“What? No! No, it’s…it’s _great_ ,” Bucky assured, throwing a weirded-out look over at Clint before going back to Steve.

“Clint did it,” Steve supplied.

“ _Clint?_ Get out.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled uneasily. “So uh….even if you hate it, you have to pretend. For his sake.”

“I _don’t_ hate it,” the brunette smiled warmly, eyes fliting over him for a moment. “It suits you.”

Steve suppressed the urge to hug his tray into his chest, instead he only nodded. “See you on break?”

“Of course,” Bucky tilted his chin confidently up at him, winking. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

 

The bar rush did come, and it came in full force. Steve had to wait for several minutes to get his orders for his tables from Clint, who was moving back and forth behind the bar rapidly.

He glanced up when he heard Bucky laugh. Three women were around the piano, watching Bucky play and speaking with him. One, a petite brunette, leaned over to give the pianist a clear view of her cleavage and it was _painfully_ obvious what she was trying to do. Steve willed himself to let it go, moving to check on his other tables when Bucky had glanced in his direction briefly before returning his attention back to the woman.

His break didn’t come fast enough. Pushing the back door open, he sighed as the cool night air hit his face.

“There you are,” He heard Bucky grin. “About time.”

“Had to wait until someone could cover my area,” Steve leaned back against the wall next to the other man. “How’s your night going?”

“Great, had a couple people slip some tips into my bag,” He chuckled.

“Oh?” Steve asked, and he thought of the women. _Wonder if they slipped him their phone numbers, too,_ he thought begrudgingly. Bucky was… well, _Bucky._ He couldn’t blame them. But still… “That’s good,” he said finally.

“God you look different _,”_ Bucky said suddenly, turning and looking at him as he leaned against the wall. “A good different,” he added on quickly. “Showcases that sass you’re so good at dealing out,” he winked.

Steve felt his face turning red, and he shrugged. “It’s just a haircut,” he mumbled as Bucky reached out, letting his fingers run over the close-shaved part. Steve nearly jumped out of his skin; it felt _weird._ A good kind of weird, though. As he leaned into the hand, Bucky’s face came closer to his own with a knowing glint in his eye.

“So. What did those girls do to you to make you give them the ol’ Death Glare?”

Freezing, Steve nearly let his jaw drop and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. Had he been _that_ obvious? Just as he was wondering how many patrons had seen it and how _unprofessional_ it was, the last thing he needed being Bruce giving him a talk about how not to let personal business come into work business, Bucky tore him from those thoughts.

“You do this little thing with your lip when you get mad.” The brunette smiled smugly.

He gave him a small glare. “I do _not.”_

“You’re doing it right now! Bucky laughed, arm slipping about his waist. “What, were you jealous?”

“A little,” Steve mumbled under his breath was he was tugged closer, the other’s cologne drifting to his nose.

Bucky’s eyes widened and his grin grew bigger. “Who coulda guessed that _you_ have a possessive streak,” he chuckled.

Grumbling and completely embarrassed now, Steve turned to go back inside but he was pulled tighter against Bucky’s chest.

“Oh stop,” the pianist tsked. “I _like_ it. Besides, won’t make me feel like such a caveman when I see someone chatting _you_ up next time.”

“As if anyone chats me up,” Steve rolled his eyes.

Bucky blinked incredulously at him. “Dude, that guy earlier at the bar? The one with the purple tie? He was _totally_ hitting on you. Hell I don’t know what he was saying but he was layin’ it on thick.”

Steve frowned. He remembered the guy, but he had no idea what Bucky was talking about. “He was not. And besides, he was on a date. With a _woman.”_

“Like that has anything to do with anything!” the other man snickered. “After she went to powder her nose or whatever he turned on the charm. You really didn’t notice?”

Steve shrugged.

“Hm,” Bucky frowned thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose that’s a good thing. For me, anyway,” he winked, placing his thumb onto Steve’s chin and tilting his frowning face up. “Now how about I do some reassuring that those girls aren’t the ones makin’ my head turn?”

Bucky pressed their mouths together in a soft open-mouthed kiss, giving a small kitten lick against Steve’s bottom lip.

Then Bucky’s hands slid down his back and gripped his ass.

Steve pulled his head back, smooshing Bucky’s face between his hands as he let out an exasperated sigh, complete with an eye roll. “Not at work, Buck.”

“ _Boyschout_ ,” Bucky sniggered against the hands.

Once his face was released, the pianist leaned down for another quick kiss. “Can’t wait for tomorrow.”

“Me too.”

“By the way,” Bucky let him go so that they could go back inside. “Wear something dark.”

“Dark?” Steve threw a glance back at him.

“Yeah. Like…. ‘ _Blend in with the shadows’_ sorta dark.”

Steve stopped and turned to look at him suspiciously. “Should I be concerned?”

“Nah,” Bucky wrinkled his nose, waving a hand in the air as he nudged him through the door. “I wouldn’t have you do anything illegal. That’s like, fourth date material.”

“Oh that makes me feel _so_ much better…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. Brock Rumlow a singer? Just go with it, I needed someone for Bucky to loathe and hate and was an asshole already and pfff, Rumlow is always the one fitting that in these stevexbucky fics, amirite? 8D; (also five points if you can guess who the producer is, lol I didn't mention the name just yet but later on I will ;Dv)  
> I'm also not 100% on HOW realistic parts of this are having to do with the music industry stuff. But eh. its sort of like the restaurant thing. Just go with it. ::throws glitter:: *FICTION!* 
> 
>  
> 
> also [updated the mix](https://8tracks.com/redroses1791/a-mix-that-goes-with-something-else). just a few tracks, but if you want some piano....  
> I'm not sure how it replays for you guys, but there's a site called re-track that will let you pull up the playlist and play whatever song you want ;P so you don't have to like, keep re-listening to anything if you don't want to. FYI.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I look like a delinquent,” Steve said dryly. 
> 
> Bucky snickered. “I look like the delinquent. You look like an art student.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...yeah I totally bailed on this fic for quite a few days like I normally do before starting up again. But then an expansion pack for a video game I play came out, and #sorrynotsorry, Witcher 3 is amazing and if you haven't played it yet? Get on it. I've got like 200+ hours plugged into that game (and that's without counting the first run-through I did) and I regret NOTHINNNNG.
> 
> Then! I was dumb and randomly picked up Assassin’s Creed Unity for super cheap, and poked at that for a while. (So far it’s rather unexciting.) When I realized how much more awwweeesome Syndicate looked thanks to my walk-through guy, I pre-ordered it and so I really pushed to get this chapter done before it arrives. 8D;v goals! So yeah, FYI, next update might be later than usual because I might be hooked on that and I have no idea how to juggle time properly when it comes to video games.
> 
> Alrighty. Before I get to the point of tweaking this chapter until I hate it like I always seem to do, as it sits right now I'm pretty ok with everything. That being said, this chapter was a bit daunting in a way because well, I stretched things out and built up to it for so long I didn't want to blow it!! :\ hopefully it’s all ok and no one is too disappointed in anything.
> 
> I've also come up with even more things to cover and go through for this story, so I’m not even going to guess on how many more chapters this thing will be anymore ^^;v Yay?
> 
> Remember *throws glitter* FICTION!
> 
> and ugh, this chapter was 5,000+ words but it sure don't seem like it :| I hate it when that happens.....  
>  
> 
> ***Please note* this chapter rating is M. yup. We’re going there, folks.**

It was late Sunday afternoon when Bucky knocked on Steve’s door, and Steve was nervous for some reason and that irritated him almost— _almost---_ more than the fight he’d been having with himself on what to wear for the last hour and a half.

Bucky’s words of ‘wear something dark’ seemed easy enough to follow. Sure, Steve had enough black clothing to do it, but when he looked in the mirror after the first combination of clothing he’d chosen he realized how fucking _hard_ it was to pull off the all-black look decently. Or, get it to match. _How the hell do blacks not **match**?_

“It’s open!” He called out, sighing as he reached out and picked up another shirt; a button up. That seemed _way_ too formal…

There was shuffling at the door and Steve glanced over to see Bucky setting his bag down, grinning. “What, you not ready yet?” He teased as he passed the kitchen and moved towards him, heavy boots sounding on the wood flooring.

“No,” Steve grumped as he turned to face him, hands on his hips. Bucky was dressed to the nines in black. Trademark boots and tight jeans, a simple tee under the worn leather jacket. All of it did _wonders_ for the other man’s form, which caused Steve to become even more irritated as he turned to look another at himself in the mirror. Stark pale skin against all that black made _him_ look like one of those wannabe poser-goth kids he remembered from high school, the ones that would play those stupid card games in the library during lunch. Back then that look wasn’t attractive, and it _still_ wasn’t. He sighed again.

“What’s wrong with what you got on? You look fine,” Bucky appeared in the mirror behind him.

“I look _stupid_ ,” Steve pushed his glasses up onto his face, giving the other a helpless look through the mirror.

Bucky laughed, placing a hand onto Steve’s shoulder in comfort as he moved over to the bed. He carefully picked through the mass of dark clothing Steve had yanked out of his dresser and closet before holding something up. “What about this?”

Turning, Steve saw that he was holding one of his sweaters; he’d shoved it off to the side during the first round of choosing. It was a soft and slightly fuzzy material, almost cashmere-like. But it hung on his frame a little too much for his liking and it wasn’t _warm._ It was mostly for looks and for all practical reasons it was virtually useless, so he only wore it around the house or down to do laundry. Hell, he didn’t even remember how he had ended up with it. Peggy’s doing, more than likely...

It must have shown in his face that he wasn’t too favorable of the idea, because Bucky gave him a stern look and shook it at him. “Just try it on and lemme see what it looks like.”

Heaving another small sigh, he reached out and took the piece of clothing from the other’s fingers. He’d try anything at this point, and if Bucky ended up liking it….well, he supposed that was a big plus. Quickly peeling off the shirt he’d had on, he ignored the smirking brunette as he pulled the sweater over his head.

When he looked back into the mirror, the top was hanging off his shoulders as he expected it would. The too-wide neck bared his collarbone easily--and nearly his shoulders too, if he wasn’t careful about it. It was totally and completely impractical.

“See?” Bucky grinned. “It looks great.”

“I look like a delinquent,” Steve said dryly. His new haircut wasn’t exactly helping things, either. He looked like a punk kid and despite his appearances he was _not_ a teenager.

Bucky snickered. “ _I_ look like the delinquent. _You_ look like an art student.”

Snorting, Steve let him win the argument for the sake of time. “You still not gonna tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope,” Bucky popped the word on his lips with a smirk.

 

“So what’s the plan for the night then? In general,” Steve asked as he closed the door of his apartment, giving the knob a twist to test that he’d locked it.

“Well, we don’t gotta be anywhere until about seven. I figured we can grab some dinner first before that,” Bucky answered as they took off down the stairs.

“And do I get to know where _that_ is, or is it a surprise too?” Steve poked as they tromped down the next flight of steps.

“Well _now_ it is, Mr. Smarty Pants….”

 

 

After hopping on the train, Steve realized they were heading the same way they took to get to the restaurant. When he asked why they were going to Midtown, Bucky only smiled smugly and said nothing. Disembarking and making their way up to the street the instead turned left instead of right. As they walked, Steve was seeing a completely different part of the area; he’d never had a reason to come this way, making a mental note that there was a lot of the city he still hadn’t been in or seen, even though he’d lived there his entire life. Sort of scary, when he thought about it.

They ended up at a small café about fifteen minutes later, and after they finished their dinners and cleared off two desserts they packed up and headed back down the street.

“Alright,” Bucky said as they walked along the sidewalk. “We’re almost there, so when we get inside just follow my lead.”

He was growing increasingly worried as he trailed after the brunette; it turned into near full-blown panic as Bucky turned, heading into a back docking area of a large looming building. The door Bucky opened was heavy, groaning a little as it shut behind them with a loud bang.

Steve thought the jig was up when there was at least two dozen people milling about inside, but relaxed a little when no one seemed to notice their entry. Or, if they did, they just shrugged and continued on with their business--because everyone was obviously in a hurry for something. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he snapped out of his small daze and tore his eyes away from watching three extremely large guys hefting up a large piece of…. _tree_? He looked up to find Bucky was grinning down at him.

“C’mon. We can’t stand here too long we’ll get in the way.”

“Are you _sure_ its ok to be back here?” he asked quietly, scared to death of being overheard. All sorts of scenarios were going through his head at getting caught, ranging from just politely being asked to leave to getting the cops called on them.

“ _Technically_? No,” Bucky answered easily over the loud sound of someone hammering. “But don’t worry about it. If someone asks, I’ll handle it.”

That didn't make him feel any better about the situation. Saying nothing, Steve followed after the other, shadowing him as he artfully dodged and weaved around the rushing people. Some were carrying cables, others clipboards of papers and wearing tiny headsets with an attached mic, speaking rapidly into it as they walked. When he saw someone go past them in an elaborate costume complete with heavy makeup, Steve quickly put it all together. Truth be told he probably would have guessed it a lot sooner but his nerves had been distracting him the entire time.

“Buck, are we in a playhouse?”

“Got it in one,” Bucky shot an excited grin over his shoulder. “Surprised?”

The grin was contagious and Steve felt the weariness he’d been feeling slowly fading. “Very.”

 

Steve nearly ran into him when he stopped abruptly a few moments later, and he blinked up at the other in confusion. Bucky’s hand was resting on a fixed metal ladder next to a mass wall of cable lines and pulleys.

“Alright, you go first.”

Steve let out a tiny squeak, looking up the ladder. It disappeared into a big dark batch of _nothing_. “You’ve gotta be kidding me....”

“Steve. It’s fine, really.”

“Says _you._ ”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Bucky promised. “You got nothin’ to worry about.”

He threw one last look at Bucky, swallowing the argument he was prepared to present at that statement. He had _plenty_ to worry about. He gripped the first rung tightly in his fingers. _If I die, I’m gonna haunt him,_ Steve decided then and there. The mean things that he would do to torture Bucky as a ghost was a pleasant distraction as he climbed higher and higher, and before he knew it he was at the top of the ladder. The voices and noises from down below were distant and muffled. As he made to pull himself up onto the walkway, the small victory cheer in his head screeched to a halt when his eyes landed on a pair of heavy shoes that stood in front of his face.

Busted. _Shit._

“You comin’ or what, kid?” A booming voice asked.

As Steve’s brain raced on what do to, a large callused hand entered his vision. He wearily reached out to grip it and instantly he was being hauled up onto the walkway so fast that it caused his head to spin. However when he gripped the rail to steady himself, he made the mistake of looking down. His stomach lurched and he saw double for a moment, and he vaguely heard Bucky greet the mystery man pleasantly. Well, he assumed pleasantly. Everything was a bit hard to hear over the ringing in his ears.

“Steve? You ok?”

“Fine!” he bit out. “S’great! Juuuuust great...”

“You feel better if I got you a line?” the other man asked.

“A line?” Steve repeated, blinking his eyes open to finally have a look at the guy. To say he was big would be an understatement; the stocky man had blazing red hair and a thick bushy mustache, wearing a …. _bowler hat_? Steve didn't have a chance to question the guy’s odd choice of fashion any further as the man spoke again.

“Yeah, a safety line. You clip it onto the rail, catches ya if you fall.”

“Uh, you know, I think that might be a good idea,” Bucky spoke up. “If you have a second?”

“Sure thing. I’ll be right back.” The man pointed at Steve. “Don’t move.”

Steve waved at him weakly before it went back to gripping the railing again. Definitely no worry of that. As he heard the heavy footsteps moving down on the metal walkway, Bucky moved to stand next to him and leaned over the rail to watch the people down below. Steve wanted to punch him at the causal way he stood there, not one bit worried about the height.

“You gonna be ok?” Bucky flashed him a tentative smile. “We can climb back down, go figure out something else…”

_Back down. Oh good lord how was he going to get back **down**?_

Steve shook his head. “No, no. It’ll be ok,” he glanced at the brunette, and attempted to give him a smile. He could suck it up. He wasn't going to make Bucky re-plan the night again, he'd never forgive himself.

Bucky wasn’t falling for it. “Are you sure? Because--“

Heavy clanking footsteps approached them again, and the large red-headed man was carrying a coiled up cable and a harness in his hands.

“Ok, here we go,” he handed Steve the harness. “Put this on. Just make sure the cable doesn’t get snagged on anything when you walk, and if you fall—which you _won’t_ ,” he gave Steve a pointed look before continuing. “It’ll give you some time to get your head out of your ass and get a grip on something.”

“Thanks. Uh…” Steve became rather embarrassed; he’d gone right into his little fit without getting introduced.

“Just call me Dugan. And don’t worry about it, you won’t even notice the height after a while,” he said as he clipped the cable onto the slot in the railing. He looked over to Bucky. “You all set?”

“Yeah man, thanks. We’ll keep out of your way,” the brunette promised.

 

 

They parted ways after that, and Steve once again was following after Bucky, this time keeping his eyes strictly on the other’s back to make sure he wasn’t going to look down again.

“So how do you know that guy, Dugan?” he asked as he followed Bucky around a turn, feet clanking as they moved farther out into the ceiling.

“He’s worked here a long time,” Bucky spoke over his shoulder. “When I was a student he’d let me come up here and watch performances pretty much whenever I wanted, long as I stayed outta the way.”

“So this place is part of the school?”

“Yeah, the whole block is.”

Steve struggled to remember the buildings they’d passed on the way to the back entrance; they didn’t _look_ much like a school, but-- _wait._ “Is everyone here a student then?”

“Nearly everyone. The cast is, for sure, probably most of the orchestra. The staff usually has students on it for their work experience stuff but like I said, Dugan’s been here like fifteen years or something. Here we are,” Bucky stopped in the middle of the long walkway that covered the entire width of the auditorium. Steve could hear people below them, milling about as they were finding their seats. He didn't dare actually looking down to cement that idea though.

“So at the risk of looking like a cheap asshole, I promise you that this is the best seat in the house,” Bucky grinned, motioning Steve to sit as he swung his legs over the edge, resting his arms on the lower bar.

This date was gonna kill him, Steve mentally wailed. He was sure of it.

 

 

Later during intermission, their legs were dangling comfortably over the edge as they peered down at the people leaving the orchestra pit. Dugan had been right; Steve had gotten used to the height a little after the first act. Having Bucky’s next to him had helped a lot though, as did focusing on the stage.

“So what do you think so far?” Bucky asked. “Did I do good?”

Steve laughed, nodding. “Yeah Buck, you did good. Totally impressed.”

“So I get to take you out again?” The brunette wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Night’s not over yet,” Steve reminded the other. “There’s still plenty of time for something to go horrendously wrong, you know,” he said airily, letting his body lean comfortably into the other.

“Jinx it why dontcha!” Bucky groaned, giving him a playful shove on the shoulder. “You’re this close to losing an aquarium trip,” he threatened, holding his thumb and index finger a sliver apart for emphasis.

Steve gasped dramatically. “What, I get to _know_ where we’re going next time?”

“Keep up that sass and you won’t.”

 

 

When the performance ended, they didn’t take the same way back down that they had come up; they exited through the front doors like any normal patron would, slipping out with the crowd. Even if they did get noticed, it wasn’t like the staff could do anything now anyway, Bucky had said with certainty. Steve had no choice but to trust him, as he seemed to be the expert on the matter.

By the time they’d made their way back to the train station, it was getting late and the car they’d boarded was surprisingly empty. Steve was pressed up against Bucky’s side, his hands tucked into his coat pockets.

“Hope you had fun tonight,” the brunette spoke up. “I know I did.”

“I did,” Steve assured. “I never woulda thought that I’d like theater though.”

“Still can’t believe that you’ve never been to something like that before,” Bucky admonished. “There’s always _something_ going on in this city, you really have no excuse,” he teased.

“I’ve never had much interest in it until I met you,” Steve retorted playfully, ribbing him with his elbow.

The pianist snickered. “Well I’m glad I’m influencing you. But I guess to be fair, I owe you a horror movie night now.”

Steve’s face lit up. “Seriously?”

Bucky looked down at him. “Yeah. I mean, you’re making efforts to like what like…. “

“It’s not an _effort,_ Buck,” Steve frowned. That made it sound like he was being forced into it, and that was far from the truth; Hell, Bucky could literally choose _anything_ to go and do for a night out and Steve would go along with it without a fuss.

“I won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t want to,” Steve smiled. “I know it’s not for everyone.”

Bucky looked a little embarrassed. “You know what I mean. I can give it a shot, at least, you know?”

The clacking of the car filled the comfortable silence that had settled between them. When the train began to slow down for the next stop, Steve’s stop, he his bag closer and shifted in his seat,  turning to the other to thank him again for the evening. However, Bucky spoke before he could get a word out and the question he posed made Steve’s mouth go dry.

“Lemme walk you home?”

 

 

Steve was nervous as hell the short trip back to his building. His nerves didn’t get any better as Bucky followed him up the stairs, remembering the encounter that they’d had on Bucky’s living room floor a few days prior. _That_ had been in the moment though, this was different. Sort of. And _that_ had been PG-13, at best…

After he unlocked the door, they dumped their bags and removed their shoes in silence. Steve took their coats and hung them on the hook next to the door, and he kicked himself as he began to ramble a little. It'd been....shit, he couldn't remember the last time he'd brought someone ' _back to his place'._ He began to overthink everything.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he moved to the kitchen.

Bucky sounded amused from the doorway. “Steve..”

“I still have some of the stuff you brought over the other day, or-“

“ _Steve.”_

He stopped, turning. Bucky was trying not to laugh as he closed the distance that he had put between them.

“Are you nervous?”

“I—Well, yeah,” Steve admitted in a small breath.

Bucky stopped before him, hands in his back pockets and sending a warm smile down at him. “Don’t be, should go without saying that I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

Steve felt his face turning redder—if that were possible. “I know!” He blurted. “But just...I know you’re expecting-“

Bucky’s mouth pressed against his mumbling lips, shutting him up. “I’m not _expecting_ anything," he murmured. "Hell I’d settle for making out, if that’s just what you wanna do,” he grinned.

Relaxing a little, Steve smiled timidly. “I definitely wanna do that.”

“Well then, I haven't disappointed you yet tonight so why start now?” Bucky smirked, tugging him out of the kitchen and towards the living room.

 

 

He was straddling Bucky’s hips, a small thrill going through him as the other reached up to slip his glasses off his nose.

“ _I’m_ the one who should be nervous by the way,” Bucky shot him a look as he set the glasses on the coffee table. “You could literally pass out on me.” His hands rested on Steve's thighs lightly.

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna pass out.”

“I really hope not,” Bucky muttered under his breath as mouth attacked Steve’s exposed collarbone, biting and then licking over the marks.

They were like that for God knows how long. Steve’s lips were getting sore with the tender abuse that Bucky was giving them, and his hands had slipped under his sweater quite some time ago. Their hips rocked together languidly and Steve was beginning to get impatient; he wasn’t sure if Bucky was trying to tease him or he was just taking things slow,  waiting for _him_ to take it further. Steve decided to take matters into his own hands and push further.

He reached out and effortlessly undid the buckle of Bucky’s belt. He had some trouble doing the same graceful move with the button of the jeans though, and he fumbled with it a little before tugging the zipper down.

“ _Jesus_ Steve,” Bucky breathed, tearing his mouth away from the spot on Steve’s neck he'd been paying keen attention to. “Give a guy a warning,” he chuckled.

Steve removed his hands quickly and Bucky laughed again. “I didn’t say _stop,”_ he chastised, playfully pressing a kiss under his ear before whispering into it. “I’m guessing you wanna move to the bed?”

A noise came from Steve’s throat and he nodded, the hot-cold feeling rushing through him at the husky way Bucky had asked the question.

The brunette smiled. “Go on, I’ll be right there.”

Steve barely registered standing and leaving the couch. As he sat on the edge of his bed, Bucky was rummaging through his bag near the doorway. He was a little puzzled about it until he caught sight of a shiny foil packet and a bottle in the other's hands when he turned.

“And you call _me_ a boy scout,” Steve snickered. He was getting a little nervous again as the other approached, the way his hips were moving were making the undone jeans slip dangerously lower and lower with each step. 

Bucky gave him an amused look and stopped next to the bed. “I packed ‘em last week.”

Steve swallowed, feeling his face heat up at the confession as he watched Bucky toss the items next to the pillow. Bucky leaned down to brush their mouths together before pulling back just enough to slip his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor.

A noise escaped Steve’s throat as all that bare skin was presented to him; his hands reached out, palms sliding over the toned chest. When said chest expanded with a sharp intake of breath, Steve risked a glance up to the other to find Bucky was smiling and looking rather pleased at the action.

“Feelin’ me up, Stevie?” he teased, taking a seat next to him. Steve was too busy marveling at the detail on that left arm to rise to the jab, letting his fingers pass over each inked line they came across.

The brunette laughed quietly, apparently not caring that he got ignored. “You really like that, don’t you?”

Steve’s made a noise of agreement as he felt a hand card through his hair. He was reminded about the other bit of design the other arm had as he caught it from the corner of his eye. The text was now close enough this time to make it out. _Success is not final, failure is not fatal_

The fingers in his hair tugged his head back, a pleasant distraction from his curiosity. He let his mouth be coaxed open as hands pulled up his sweater.

He’d ask about it later.

 

The next thing he knew he was flat on his back, the sweater thrown somewhere off the bed. A much larger and heavier body was deliciously pressing him into the mattress as hands were undoing his pants, tugging them down.

After Bucky had pulled every bit of clothing off of him, Steve realized as those blue eyes looked him over that he wasn’t one bit uneasy about it. Previous partners always commented on how slender he was. Joked about it, to cover up their distaste. But what Bucky said was something he’d never heard from anyone before, and his breath caught in his throat because the other sounded so  _sincere_ about it.

“Christ, Steve,” Bucky murmured. “You’re perfect.”

Something akin to elation rushed over him, excited tingly warmth. What could he say; he’d had some lousy bed partners. Sad thing was that he didn’t even realize it until this moment.

“First time I’ve heard that one,” he said quietly.

“Are you kidding me?” the brunette’s brow furrowed just a little. He reached down, sliding his hand over Steve’s chest. “What sorta shit guys you been with?”

Before he could answer that, Bucky was leaning back down and kissing him again. His hands slipped around to cup his rear, pulling him up into the careful rocking of still jean-clad hips; the sensation was odd, but Steve loved it. He let his head fall back as Bucky’s mouth latched on his neck, quivering as the hands him gave an experimental squeeze. No one had done something quite like _this_ , either.

Bucky popped the lid of the tube open, tongue did a skillful little flick against Steve's lips to distract him from the probing finger that he slipped into him.

Just like when they were back on the sofa, Bucky was taking much longer to progress things. When Steve began withering under the heavy body and against those fingers that were slowly pushing in and out of him, he was nearly out of his mind.

“Buck,” He ground out. “M’fine _._ ” _Hurry the hell up._ The laughing response that Bucky gave him was oh-so frustratingly _cute_.

“You got a pumpkin to catch or somethin’?” Bucky’s wrist twisted and the spot the other hit sent shocks up Steve’s back, making him squirm up on the mattress.

“ _James_ ,” panted against the other’s mouth in warning, hoping that using his name would get some sort of response. His arms tightened around the strong shoulders that hovered over him. “Quit being a big stupid dumb _jerk_.”

“Is the kitten gonna claw me?” Bucky let out a puff of laughter on Steve’s cheek as the fingers slipped from him.

Steve grunted, scowling up at him, feeling other’s freed erection against his thigh. He reached out, closing his fingers around it in retaliation and gave a small squeeze. The surprised growl Bucky emitted was enough to make Steve’s toes curl in anticipation. He didn’t know when he had decided it, but he _wanted_ Bucky to get riled up; and he was pretty OK with that.

Bucky bowed his head for a moment, and when he looked back his eyes were focused on him with an intensity that made Steve’s hand still. The brunette’s jaw clenched as Steve moved his hand experimentally, gaging the other’s reaction as he did so.

And it was a damn good reaction.

Bucky’s mouth _devoured_ his, all tongue and teeth clicking as he pushed Steve down into the sheets, hips rocking steadily into his hands.

“Was trying to be nice and take it slow,” Bucky’s teeth closed over his earlobe. “You’re makin’ it pretty hard.”

Steve shivered. And, against his better judgment, he snorted and responded with a cheeky “I can tell.”

Bucky swore under his breath, pushing Steve’s hands off of him so that he could remove his pants the rest of the way. Another string of expletives escaped from the brunette as they caught on his ankle. Steve laughed as he watched the other kick them off, and Bucky’s focus turned back on him when he’d successfully freed himself.

“You’re such a little shit, you know that?” Bucky ground out while reaching for the foil packet next to Steve’s head. He ripped it open, grumbling under his breath as he did so. Something about ‘having all night’ and taking advantage of it ‘ _but noooo_ _Steve wants to hurry it up_ ’

He watched the other rolled the condom on, using the lube one more time on himself before chucking the tube over his shoulder in the same manner he had with nearly everything else.

 

 

Steve shoved back at the careful pushing, wanting the other to go faster. The careful way Bucky was taking things was appreciated, but he was _not_ gonna break. Bucky’s weight shifted, restricting his movements.

“Slow down, would ya? Jeeze...” Bucky grunted playfully. It was obviously difficult for Bucky to go so slow, and Steve groaned because _what was the problem._  He tilted his head back, fingers clutching at the sheets as Bucky pulled his legs higher up around his hips, moving into him just a little harder, going just a _little_ deeper in the same lazy slow pace.

Bucky’s hand slid up to rest on his heaving chest, rising and falling with the short gasping breaths that Steve’s lungs were working through.

“Shhh,” Bucky hushed, pushing into him again. “Breathe, ok?”

Past all coherent thought or words now, Steve he didn’t even know what he said in response. But it must have been good, if Bucky’s warm laughter was anything to go off of. The other’s hips tilted just a little, touching that bundle of nerves inside of him and Steve jerked so hard it caused their chins to hit, causing a small spike of pain that faded quickly.

Bucky chuckled low in his throat. “Oh ho,” he hummed, leaning back down to press his lips to Steve’s chest, licking a long trail up to his neck. “Did you like that?”

“God _yes,”_ Steve let out a long moan, nodding as Bucky pushed against that spot again. He felt Bucky’s hand wrap around his cock, and his eyes shut as the hand matched time with the thrusts. He was slowly coming apart at the steady movements, gasping and squirming from the staggering enthusiasm the other was giving him.

Three more rolls of Bucky’s hips and Steve was done for. He cried out as he came over the fingers and onto their stomachs, and he expected Bucky to give him a moment. The pace the other had set only picked up after that, _finally,_ and Steve felt hands tighten down onto his waist to pull him into the short shallow thrusts that was delivered into his now over-sensitized body.  

 _This_ was what he’d been trying to get Bucky to do, and the ass had known it.  His hands gripped at Bucky’s, squeezing tightly when a sharp bite was delivered to the base of his neck. He winced but didn’t say anything, wondering for a split second how bad of a mark it was going to leave. The hips slowed with one last push before stopping entirely as Bucky’s shoulders shook, hot breath panting over Steve’s skin.

Steve’s fingers curled into the other’s sweaty hair, twisting affectionately as Bucky laid his head onto his chest.

“I’ll move,” Bucky hummed tiredly. “Just give me a second.”

“No hurry.”

There really wasn’t. Steve liked the heavy comforting feel of the way the other’s body was draped over him, the lips that were pressing onto his skin in no particular way...

Bucky grunted. “Oh _now_ there’s no hurry….”

 

 

When Steve woke up, the first thing he noticed was that his legs were twisted uncomfortably in his sheets. The second thing was that the space in the bed next to him was empty.

Glancing over at the clock next to the bed and noting the time was still indeed morning, his calves cramped slightly from the cold floor when he placed his feet down. He glanced around the bed, spotting that his clothes had been gathered up neatly and set onto the chair next to the window. He dumped the clothes into the hamper, frowning. Bucky’s things were nowhere to be seen and he didn’t hear the other in the bathroom.

Refusing to believe anything that the small cynical part of his brain was telling him, he grabbed a clean pair of jeans. A pleasant soreness greeted him as he leaned down to get to the bottom drawer of his dresser to get a shirt, and as he pulled it over his head he caught sight of himself in the nearby mirror. Eyeing the numerous small red welts on his collarbone and neck, his eyes landed on an especially large one; He remembered when _that_ particular mark was given to him, and a small smile drifted to his lips as he stripped his bed quickly, dumping the sheets on the floor.

He was beginning to grow a little concerned by the time he’d replaced the bedding, and he grabbed his phone from his bag. He blinked at it for a moment until he realized he didn’t have his glasses on yet, and wracked his brain at trying to remember when exactly he’d lost those last night.

After he finally tracked them down, he checked the screen again. There was only one text, but it was from Natasha. Just as he went to press the screen to open it up the front door’s knob jiggled and the door swung open. Bucky entered, balancing a white box with two tall cups set on top of it. Bright blue eyes lit up and a smirk graced the slightly scruffy face.

“Well good morning sunshine. I got breakfast.”

Steve hadn’t realized how tense he’d been. Or how cold his fingers had gotten with subconscious nerves until he reached out to take hold of the warm cups the other was balancing.

Bucky leaned down for a kiss, but before his lips could get any closer Steve pulled his head back. Bucky frowned.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” Steve warned sheepishly.

The brunette snorted and rolled his eyes. “Like I care.”

 A minty taste laced the kiss and Steve hummed happily into it, carefully moving closer as to not jar the box from the other’s hands.

“I tried waking you up but you were out cold, so I let you sleep,” Bucky smiled as he pulled away so that he could kick off his shoes. “You been up long?”

Steve placed the cups onto the kitchen island. “Just long enough to change the sheets and get dressed.”

“Good,” Bucky rubbed the back of his head, still holding the box. “Felt dumb leaving you but I figured if I came back with something good, you’d find it in your heart to let it slide this time."

Steve didn't miss the wording. _This time._ Which meant there was _going_ to be a Next Time.

"Did you know they put _bacon_ in these things now?” Bucky continued, opening the box to show him half a dozen brightly decorated donuts. “ _Bacon,_ Steve.”

Laughing, Steve selected an orange-frosted pastry decorated in tiny ghost-shaped sprinkles. “Well I guess can’t be mad at bacon,” he conceded before taking a bite as Bucky took one from the box for himself, shoving it into his mouth as he set the rest onto the counter next to the coffees.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--I did wiki a few Real Life things I had in mind regarding the theater and the school Bucky went to, and while there was some stuff that suited my needs I just didn't feel 100% comfortable using the actual names and locations. I wanna be realistic but I’m not THAT hung up on it...so I was vague on purpose. 
> 
> \--I was too lazy to go back through and really totally remember Dugan's character (because he wasn't going to be in this at all until it popped into my head super late into this last draft) so if I somehow effed him up ,I’m sorry. (I think) this is the only time he'll make an appearance, so eh. :Pv whatevs.
> 
> \--And like the last intimate scene I wrote, I reeeeeally hope this turned out ok. Didn’t wanna be too descriptive or NON descriptive, didn't want to make it too unrealistic or whatever, blah blah blah. 8| I'm just gonna stick with the 'if you don't got nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all' rule on this, u gaiz. (Please. cuz it ain't changing now lol ;_; and I hope I didn't reuse anything from that other chapter. I suck at these scenes, ok!?)  
> Unless something changes, this is the only sex scene I’m planning on writing out. soooOOOooo if it was torture for you and you hated it, then that's all you'll probably be seeing of it. yay?
> 
>  
> 
> Remember *throws glitter* FICTION! The next chapter will pick up directly where I’ve stopped here. :)v


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey man you're not gonna have to sleep with the lights on after seeing this thing, are ya?"
> 
> "YOU TOLD THEM!?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I started second-guessing a lot of this chapter so I realized it was time to just post it before I went to work and it started to eat at me. Hopefully there aren't any major grammar oopsies. ¯\\_( ツ )_/¯
> 
> Ok, so sorry this took longer than I thought it would! I've been writing here and there and chipping away at this chapter since the last update, but really haven't felt the motivation until the few days to really polish it up. And well, me telling myself no more video games until I finished it, helped ;D Syndicate is awesome, for those that were wondering last time. I've hated any AC game I've picked up but I LOVE this one. I would have been finished with it already but between getting this chapter taken care of and taking a small long-weekend vacation to visit a friend in another state, that took some time up 8Dv Adventure!
> 
> I figured it out and as of right now, after this chapter there are at least two more chapters. Unless more things come up that I'm not foreseeing. (which happens) So right now I have everything outlined and that's looking like the deal. 8)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Please note that there is a more M rated scene in part of this chapter**
> 
>  
> 
> Remember, *THROWS GLITTER* ~*FICTION!*~

“Clint called me a bit ago,” Bucky’s words were muffled over the piece of donut in his mouth, a bit of frosting stuck on his cheek. “Natasha wants us all to go to lunch later.”

 _Well that explained what the text was probably about_. “Sounds good,” Steve nodded as pulled grabbed up his phone.

He nearly spit out his coffee at seeing what was on the screen.

_8:56a.m. [tell lover boy to get out of your ass and make you breakfast]_

_9:02a.m. [!! omg that wasn’t me, that was clint]_

_9:03a.m. [but for the record I completely agree ;)]_

“What is it?” Bucky was peering curiously over his shoulder and Steve panicked, pulling it to his chest.

“N-Nothing!”

The brunette rolled his eyes. “C’mon, whatever gets a reaction like that outta ya, I gotta know what it is.” He reached for the phone, and Steve didn’t even know why he bothered trying to keep it from the other’s grasp; Bucky easily outweighed him, was bigger than him, and….knew that he was ticklish.

Left panting against the edge of the counter, he had to remove his glasses to wipe the tears away from his eyes as he watched Bucky look at the screen.  The brunette let out a strangled noise and Steve shoved another bit of donut into his mouth to keep himself from rambling or _apologizing_ on behalf of his—and he used the term loosely right now-- _friends_...

Bucky coughed, placing the phone onto the counter. “Uh…so. After we finish eating I’ll grab a shower, if that’s ok. Then we can head out.”

“Good idea,” Steve nodded before taking another drink of coffee, all the while carefully plotting an epic over-the-top plan to get sweet revenge on Clint that involved Loki and _knives._

 

Steve took the small window of time Bucky was in the shower to head down to the laundry room that was located in basement of the building. He was determined to get most of his day-off chores ticked off the list while he had the chance. After transferring the first load into the dryer, he heard the familiar heavy booted footsteps coming down the cement stairs.

Bucky stopped in the doorway, peering around.

“Ok, for the record? It’s creepy as fuck down here.”

Steve snorted. “It’s not _that_ bad.”

“Oh of course, what am I thinking,” The brunette entered the room and crossed his arms, the fresh sharp scent of aftershave filled the small space. “This is like a playground for you, isn’t it. It’s probably haunted.”

“It’s not haunted,” Steve rolled his eyes. “And just because I like horror movies doesn’t mean I want to be _in_ one. I’d probably be the first one to die.”

“Nah, you’re smart. You’d be the only one left in the end.” Bucky responded as he hauled himself up on the washer opposite, heels making a small noise on the metal as they hit.

Smirking, Steve glanced over at him as he dumped the next load into the washer, adding the detergent. “Well that’s nice to know.”

Bucky bounced his heels against the metal again. “How much longer ‘til you’re done?”

Steve picked up a towel, folding it efficiently as he shrugged. “Fifteen minutes, maybe?” he guessed.

The brunette let out a long groan, head falling back dramatically.

Laughing, Steve threw a washcloth at the Bucky’s face.  “Well help me fold then, if you’re so eager to go to this façade that Natasha is calling a lunch date.”

Bucky caught the cloth before it could fall onto the floor, nose wrinkling. “Point.” His eyes then went from Steve’s face to the pink fluffy towel. He arched a brow at it.  “Are these even yours?”

“I’m helping the lady in 2C out. She can’t get around so well anymore,” Steve explained as he set another folded towel down into the basket.

Bucky smirked, hopping off the washer. “Boy scout.”

“She’s like, ninety!” Steve argued.

The brunette grunted and grabbed a large towel from the pile, lining up the edges to fold it neatly. Steve caught sight of the ink of his forearm and wondered if he could ask about it now since he was so pleasantly distracted before….

“My old mentor in school used to have it hanging on the wall of his office,” Bucky volunteered, obviously noticing that Steve was staring.

“It’s a good motto to have,” Steve agreed, tossing a folded towel into the basket and starting another one as he eyed the words.

Bucky nodded, staring down at the inked patch of skin. “Yeah…”

It seemed that he wanted to say something more about it, but the buzzer of the washer finishing its cycle interrupted the moment.

 

 

Mrs. Moritz was a ninety-one year old widow with white hair and a slightly hunched back. Physically, she moved at almost a snail’s pace. However… _mentally?_ She was sharper than anyone Steve had met. He’d lost count on how many people she’d given the run-around that had tried to scam her or treat her like an inferior because of her age. Or because of the thick German accent she had, even though she’d been living in the states for over sixty years.

He sniggered quietly as he listened to Bucky and the elderly woman chat, setting the laundry basket down on the kitchen table. Bucky was completely eating up the fawning the little old lady was doing over him, tutting about how he looked like he was ‘ready for a battle’ with the heavy boots he wore. Steve was just grateful there was someone else around now for her to fuss about at the moment.  She always managed to talk him into taking extra food back with him, telling him he needed to eat more. The last time he’d helped her out she made him an entire pot of stew that he had eaten on for an entire week.

They were heading back out the door of the cozy knick-knack filled apartment in less than ten minutes, using the lunch date as an excuse--but not before the woman insistently loaded a bag of home-made cookies into Steve’s arms that Bucky eyed.

 

“C’mon, gimme one.” Bucky whined as soon as the door closed behind them.

Steve took a big bite of the cookie in his hand, giving the brunette a great big smile as he chewed, heading up the stairs.

“Steve!” Bucky pouted after him, catching up with him on the landing. “She said to _share!_ With—and I quote—‘ _your handsome friend_ ’ _,”_ he spoke in nearly a perfect mimic of the elderly woman’s accent, making Steve nearly choke.

“But your hands are full,” Steve motioned with the cookie in his hand to the basket of folded sheets the other as carrying. “You can have one when we get back to my place.”

“If there will be any left,” Bucky pouted. “That’s like your third one and they’re almost as big as your face. Where are you putting all that, anyway?” He demanded as his eyes gave him a once-over. “You’re like a garbage disp-”

Steve turned and shoved the half-eaten cookie into the brunette’s mouth.

 

 

It took them nearly an hour to get to part of the city they needed to be, and then finding the place that on top of that it made the entire thing like a crusade instead of a lunch date. Steve was kicking himself for saying that out loud by the time they’d found the restaurant – a hole-in-the-wall ramen shop--because Bucky wouldn’t stop humming the damn _Indiana Jones_ theme song and he was about ready to strangle him.

They entered the shop, spotting Clint and Natasha already seated at a table in the far corner.

“You’re late,” Natasha said in greeting.

“Yeah, sorry. You guys order yet?” Steve asked as he sat down across from her.

“Nope, we’re still deciding. Well, _Clint_ is still deciding,” her gaze slid over to the blonde next to her.

“I’ve never even heard of half this stuff,” Clint huffed under his breath. “What the hell are goji berries?”

Steve chuckled as his eyes glanced over the menu. “Clint, its ramen. You can’t really go wrong with any of it."

”I’m probably just gonna get that Taco ramen special that the waitress talked about,” Clint mused as he flipped the plastic-coated book shut.

Bucky’s eyebrows rose. “Uh…dude, it’s not _taco,_ its _tak-_ “

Steve felt something move swiftly and sharply past his calf; Natasha’s foot had shot out to kick Bucky in the leg.  He took a drink of water to hide his laugh as Bucky cleared his throat, attempting to act nonchalant, nodding casually as his eyes glanced over then menu again. “Oh, yeah, yeah man. “Taco”ramen. Sounds good.”

When their food came, Clint Barton went pale as a sheet at the sight of the bowl that was placed in front of him.  Steve felt a _little_ bad as the three of them sniggered, watching the bartender poke at one of the small octopus’s tentacles with his chop sticks. The rest of him however, was positively _gleeful_. He scrapped the plan of ‘ _Loki+Knives’_ and decided something less terrifying would do now since he’d already had some sort of retribution for the vulgar text earlier that morning.

But Clint was Clint, and after getting over his initial shock he dug into the dish with gusto and making sure to be as descriptive as possible about the texture and the taste. He grabbed one of the tentacles up and shook it at Bucky.

"Hey man, you're not gonna have to sleep with the lights on after seeing this thing, are ya?" he made a screeching noise.

"YOU TOLD THEM!?" Bucky yelped, nearly spitting out the mouthful of food he’d just taken. He gaped at Steve, blue eyes wide as Natasha was trying to not laugh, hitting Clint to get him to shut up and put the thing down before they got kicked out.

“Nat!” Steve glared accusingly at the red head.

“What? I was never sworn to secrecy Rogers. Besides, it was too cute not to share,” she grinned.

 

 

They made it through lunch without any embarrassing moments. _Thank God._ Natasha only asked in passing on how their night out had been, and Clint’s shit-eating grin was ignored. Nothing more was said about it until they were saying their goodbyes outside the restaurant on the sidewalk, when Natasha leaned in to give Steve a hug.

“Don’t think you’re gonna get away without telling me the details,” She murmured into his ear before she pulled back. Luckily Bucky was busy shaking Clint’s hand in parting, so neither caught the sour look that he shot at the redhead.  

She smiled serenely at him, giving Bucky a small wave before she took Clint’s arm. “I’ll call you later,” she threw over her shoulder as they took off down the street.

“Well, they were a little better-behaved than I thought they would be,” Bucky commented as they headed in the opposite direction back to the station.

“I know,” Steve grumbled. “That’s almost worse.”

 

 

The next morning he instantly spotted Bucky in the usual corner of the train car, a free seat open next to him. The hard expression he wore wasn’t from anger or annoyance, from what Steve could discern--It was from _worry._

“Morning,” Steve greeted as he plopped down in the vacant seat.

“Hey.”

 _Yup, something was definitely up._ Looking over at him carefully, Steve gave the other man a tentative smile. “What’s up?”

 “I’ve got a meeting with some producers.”

Steve realized that he had his satchel next to his usual bag. A rush of excitement flooded through him for the other, ignoring the small voice that piped up inside his head. _Why didn’t he mention it?_

“Hey that’s great, Buck,” he beamed. “I’m sure they’ll like your work.”

Bucky didn’t look convinced. “The last four haven’t.”

Steve frowned. But before he could speak up Bucky sighed and gave him a forced smile.

“Just ignore me. I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Steve nudged him with his shoulder. “You’ll do fine. Want me to come by after I get off?”

The brunette shifted a little in his seat, looking a little unsettled. “I might not be so great for company.”

“I’ll come by,” Steve promised.

 

 

As usual, Loki was already in the kitchen when Steve emerged from the locker room.  Tugging the tie around his neck to loosen it a bit, he greeted the dark-haired man as he moved to load up the cart with glasses and linens. He pleasantly surprised when he found the silver sets were already done.

While making a mental note to make sure and thank Sam later, he spared a glance over to Loki. “How was your weekend?”

“Well enough to be expected,” Loki not-so-surprisingly answered over the tapping of his knife. “And yours?”

Steve shrugged, ignoring the way the front swinging doors of the kitchen slammed open. He knew who had entered without even looking; only one person ever made those doors cause noise….

“It was good, I went to a play-”

“I _thought_ I saw you guys!” Tony’s voice rang out over the kitchen, making both of them cringe at the volume. Loki moved away from his station as Tony approached.

“You were there?” Steve asked. He couldn’t remember seeing Tony at the theater….But then again, he’d been pretty terrified of getting caught so he hadn’t really been paying too much attention to anyone other than staff.

Tony leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.  “Yeah. I’m trying to bang someone in the orchestra.”

A loud crash echoed through the kitchen and Steve nearly dropped the glasses he’d been transferring over to the cart. Loki had slammed the oven door shut, his shoulders tense. Suddenly Steve was worried for the first time in a long while about the easy access the man had to the gleaming, carefully lined-up knives sitting on the counter.

Steve gave his full attention back to the restaurant owner, not quite sure how to respond to the statement and chose to just flat-out ignore it. It was no secret that Tony Stark played the field but that didn’t mean he had to _ask_.  “Buc-James,” he corrected himself, not knowing if the other men were aware of his preferred name, ”-used to go to school there.”

“Oh?” Loki mused as he stepped back up to his counter. And, Steve realized, he was refusing to look at Tony for some reason.

“One doesn’t get into such a school easily,” the black-haired man continued.

Tony took the words right out of Steve’s mouth. “Really?”

Loki nodded, having picked up one of his knives, the sharp tapping resuming.  “A potential student must go through several demonstrations pertaining to whatever subject they choose to study before being accepted.”

“So they don’t take slackers,” Tony dumbed down.

The knife went down in a vindictive _tak_ , and Steve winced.

“How do you know so much about it anyway?”

“I attended there for a short time,” he answered as-a-matter-of-factly.

Steve couldn’t help the incredulous look that came over his face, grateful that Loki was consumed in what he was doing to not notice it.

“Aw what, you get bored quoting Shakespeare and you found your calling as a chef?” Tony barbed.

What the hell was Tony’s problem? Steve shot a glare at the oblivious man.

“My focus was _painting_ , actually,” Loki retorted just as sharply. His head lifted, green eyes fixed onto the shorter man on the other side of the counter. The entire atmosphere of the kitchen was hostile and Steve swallowed, his mind only barely registering the new piece of Loki Trivia; he _painted_? Go figure. He quickly spoke up before either one of them could say anything more--at least, until he got the hell out of there. Then they could do or say whatever they wanted.

“Uh, I think James majored in composition?” He offered up, glancing between the two.

“Get out,” Tony shot him an impressed look. “He still do that?”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, he’s been trying to find work with it since he got back from Los Angeles. He had a meeting today, actually….”

Tony seemed lost in thought, and Steve wondered if he’d even really heard him. Glancing at the scowling Loki one more time, he clapped a hand down onto Steve’s shoulder. “I gotta get going. See you later.”

“Uh…yeah,” Steve was left more confused than ever as he watched the man strut from the kitchen, the doors swinging shut behind him.

He turned his head, looking over at Loki.

The other man didn’t look up. “Don’t ask,” he said stiffly as he tilted the cutting board over a bowl, shoving the diced vegetables off with his blade in a clean swipe.

Steve cleared his throat. “Yeah, no, I’m just….gonna go…” he motioned to the cart.

Once he left the kitchen he spotted Tony leaving through the front entrance of the building, and Bruce was coming back into the dining room with a frown on his face.

“Hey, everything ok back there? Tony seemed a little distracted. More than usual, I mean.”

Steve could only shrug and answer him honestly. “I have no idea.”

 

One was his shift was over he headed directly over to Bucky’s.  Eager to hear how things had turned out, he was even keener on telling him about the intense and confusing moment in the kitchen. He was still reviewing the entire thing in his head as he walked down the street, kicking the leaves as he did so.

As Steve made his way down the sidewalk, he could hear music. Thinking nothing much of it until he stopped at the foot of the stairs leading to Bucky’s front door, and  he realized that the loud frantic-sounding notes were pouring through the open window of the room to the studio.

A skritch of shoes on the cement caught his attention; a middle-aged man walking his dog had stopped several feet away, staring at the front of the house. They shared a look and Steve gave him a sheepish smile before he hopped up the stairs and went inside, thankful that Bucky had left the door unlocked.

The music reverberated through the house. It was powerful and dramatic and Steve felt overwhelmed as he quietly shut the door and locked it.  Going into the open doorway of the studio, he watched Bucky playing furiously, his back completely and painfully straight-looking. Steve said nothing as he watched the other, almost afraid to say anything to interrupt.

The music suddenly stopped. The silence that reigned down was eerie as he stood awkwardly in the doorway. Bucky’s head tilted a fraction of an inch towards him, and Steve didn’t know how the hell the brunette had heard him over the near-deafening music.

“Bad day?” he offered.

“Whatever gave you that idea,” Bucky answered dryly, turning his head back that little bit to stare at the sheet music in front of him. He began playing again, a soft and un-intrusive melody. Steve stopped behind him to lightly rest his hands on the tensed shoulders, hoping it was comforting. He felt the muscles relax, and Bucky leaned back into him with a small grunt.

“I take it that meeting didn’t go well.”

Bucky shrugged against him, fingers still elegantly moving over the keys. “Don’t call us, we’ll call you.”

Steve smiled. “Well it’s not a _no_ ,” he said hopefully as Bucky pulled his hands away from the keys and swung his legs around the bench, making Steve step back.

“Usually is.”

Steve regarded him for a moment, and he bumped his leg against Bucky’s knee. “Let’s get out of here.”

“And do _what_ ,” the pianist grumbled, combing his hair back with his fingers.

Placing his arms onto other’s shoulders, Steve shrugged “Dunno. But it’s better than sitting here and moping isn’t it?”

Bucky looked up at him. He looked tired. _Defeated._  Leaning down, Steve planted his lips onto pouting ones carefully. It seemed to snap the other out of his funk—at least for the time being--feeling arms wrap around his waist, hauling him closer as he lost control of the kiss. Steve hummed as a tongue slipped against his own, satisfied that he was getting his way in distracting the pianist from his brooding.

“We can just stay here,” Bucky said huskily as he pecked at Steve’s lips. One of his hands slid down to palm Steve’s ass suggestively.

“Nice try,” Steve sniggered as the hands slid around the backs of his thighs. “Maybe later. But _only_ if you go out and see that the world isn’t ending because you _might_ not have gotten the job.” He ignored the screaming his brain was doing, telling him to just let Bucky take the lead; Steve knew from experience that shutting yourself up wasn’t the healthy way to go about anything.

With a grunt, Bucky let his arms drop down. “Fine. Lemme go get cleaned up a little first.”

 

 

It was nearly midnight when they finally left the bar they’d ended up at. It was rather far off the beaten path that both of them usually traveled, but Steve was happy to let Bucky explore and do something to get his mind off of his day. _However_ …. Steve wasn’t really planning on getting so distracted by his own slightly tipsy state to allow Bucky to consume as much as he had.  The friendly bartender finally pulled Steve off to the side when pianist wasn’t paying attention, telling him that maybe they should just go home before he had to cut Bucky off. Steve whole-heartedly agreed, making sure to tip him generously on the bill that Bucky had started earlier in the evening.

“I wanted to be the next Andrew Lloyd Webber,” Bucky began rambling as the cab that Steve hailed pulled away from the curb.  He shifted in his seat, his forehead against the window. “D’you knows how dis’pointed my mentor was? That fucking _look_ when I bailed to write shitty adult pop?”

“It’s ok Buck, you’re almost home.” Steve threw a glance at the cab driver. Bucky would probably be mortified to be spilling his guts, but at least he’d waited to do it when they were relatively alone. He was too busy berating himself on letting Bucky talk him into going into that damn bar in the first place to realize that the brunette was rambling again.

“He’s dead y’know,” Bucky continued, not hearing him or just not caring. His breath was fogging up the glass now. “He died last year, when I was tryin’ ta get out of my contract. He died thinking I was big disappointment. I fucking am.”

The rest of the cab ride was in silence. Steve stared down at his hands, clasping them tightly together between his knees, not knowing what to say. He wondered that even if he did, if the other would comprehend it.

 

  


Steve tried to support Bucky as much as he could while he guided him up the small set of steps that lead to the front door. He leaned the wavering man against the brick wall, not trusting the railing.

“Ok,” Steve sighed, the puff of air that he let out a small cloud of white as he patted around Bucky’s jacket. “Where’re your keys?”

Bucky said nothing, only blinking owlishly down at him.

Having no luck in the coat, Steve tried the front jean pockets next. The brunette then let out a _giggle_ that made Steve nearly jump back—which would have been disastrous because the stairs were directly behind him.

“You trying to get into my pants, Stevie?” Bucky gave him a wide, lazy drunk grin. “It’s _later_ , isn’t it….?”

Rolling his eyes for the millionth time that night, Steve shot him a look although he knew it was useless. His fingers found the metal loop of the ring, and he pulled the set of keys free. He dangled them in front of the other’s face, jingling them a little in reason.

Bucky pouted and pulled them from his fingers. Only after failing half a dozen times, he finally unlocked the door and stepped into the house, leaving Steve to follow along behind him.

In his extremely inebriated state, the other dropped his bag to the floor with a heavy clunk, jacket sliding from his shoulders to join it as he walked. Steve quickly dropped his own things next to the door to follow after him. “You need to drink some water,” he called out as he watched the man wander into the living room.

He’d seen the living room earlier before they’d left, but he didn’t get a really good look at it. It looked like…well, a living room now. A coffee table was in front of the main sofa, a large tan area rug underneath. The TV reflected Steve’s figure as he entered, his eyes sweeping over the random knickknacks that had been placed on the shelves surrounding the TV.

Swaying on his feet, Bucky was next to the coffee table, holding a thin glossy book and using his thumb to flick the pages. Similar-looking books were piled on the low table, and Steve grabbed the top one off the pile to inspect it. _A work book for a beginning piano student?_ All of the books were variations of the same subject, holding blank work pages and simple three-lined songs.

“Got em’ for Ali,” Bucky’s voice was low, rough.

“ _All_ of them?”

Bucky rubbed the back of his wrist against his nose. “Yeah. No. Thinkin’ I should teach. Y’know? Plan B.”

 Steve caught the heavy sigh that he almost let out. Clenching his jaw, he nodded. “It’s good to have a back-up plan,” He said carefully. “But you don’t need one right _now._ ”

The brunette snorted, making a face. “Don’t I?”

“You really wanna give up after all you’ve been through?”

He didn’t get an answer. Steve pulled the book carefully away to toss it onto the table with the others. “C’mon. Let’s get you something to drink and get you to bed.”

 

  


As Bucky pulled himself up onto the kitchen counter, and Steve could feel him watching as he moved to find a glass. Once he had filled it with some cold water, the other man looked at it skeptically for a long moment before he grabbed it almost begrudgingly from Steve’s outstretched hand and nearly spilling it in the process.

“How come no one’s ever told you they think you’re perfect?” the brunette asked suddenly.

Steve blinked in confusion before he remembered what he was talking about.

‘ _What sorta shit guys you been with?’_

Heaving a tired sigh, Steve rubbed at his face. “Because they were selfish controlling assholes, Buck. They weren’t good people and they as hell weren’t good for me.” he hoped that that would be enough to satisfy the intoxicated man’s curiosity.

“….’M _I_ good for you?” Small. Hesitant.

_Like he thought that Steve was going to say **no**._

Steve’s stomach did a flip-flop and he took the glass back, cold fingers clenching tightly around it. “Jesus Buck. ‘Course you are.”

“Even if I’m a complete fuck up?”

“You’re _not_ ,” Steve almost snapped, wincing a little when he saw Bucky’s face blanch at the hard tone. He reached out, turning the other’s arm over so that the inked words on his forearm showed. He pressed his finger onto the second part of the phrase.

_Failure is not fatal._

“You gotta remember _this_ ,” he said firmly. “Ok? Long as I’m with you I’m not gonna let you think otherwise.” He meant it, too. He _hated_  hearing Bucky talk so badly about himself. If he could only see that he’d gotten the worst behind him, and he was all the smarter and tougher for it now. He had all the time in the world, the talent to put out there and….

The sound that came from the pianist’s throat was proof enough that he _got_ it. His head rose to look up at him, blue eyes looking no longer looking so much like a kicked puppy and Steve found himself pulled into a hug that was so tight that it was nearly bruising. He didn’t mind.

“Yeah. You’re with me. Aren’t you,” Bucky spoke quietly.

“Yeah, Buck.” Steve paused, his hand moving in small soothing circles on the other’s back. “Think you’re sort of stuck with me now anyway,” he attempted to lighten the mood, smiling into his shoulder. 

“I like being stuck with you,” the brunette mumbled. “You make everything not suck.”

Steve bit back the snicker that nearly broke from his throat. Leave it to Bucky to put his own clumsy spin on something serious. He had a feeling however that if the other were completely sober, he’d probably say the exact same thing anyway.

“M’sorry got drunk.”

Shaking his head, Steve pulled back. “C’mon,” he smiled. “Let’s get you to bed. You need to sleep this off.”

 

  


Simplicity was the theme for Bucky’s bedroom. The blue-grey walls caused the white of the fluffy comforter on the bed to almost glow in the light that was cast from the lamp. The rich hardwood floors were deceptively warm under Steve’s feet as he helped Bucky sit down.

Bucky then attempted to undo his boot laces, and was failed miserably.

“Oh just let me do it,” Steve pursed his lips, batting away fumbling hands. He was getting impatient; he just wanted to get some sleep before he had to get to work in the morning.  Making quick work of the task, he’d managed to wrangle the leather monstrosities off soon after and left them next to the bed.

He had just begun to see to his own shoes when the world spun. He was being yanked up onto the bed and Bucky was looming over him when his head finally cleared.

He blinked. _How the hell had he managed to do that in his state?!_

“Bucky, what are you _doing?”_

The brunette gave him a dumb, adorably confused look. “S’later.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re drunk.”

Bucky pouted. “So?”

“So, you can’t even untie your shoes!” Steve huffed.

A devious smile then spread across Bucky’s face. “Then how ‘bout somethin’ else?”

“Something else?” Steve repeated, raising a brow.

The brunette licked his lips and tugged at Steve’s belt, shifting to slide down his body.

 _Oh_.

 

 

Steve had never really been partial to blowjobs—giving _or_ receiving. Probably because whenever he’d experienced them, it was usually done as an obligation. And as such, Steve couldn’t remember when the last time this had, or ever had, felt this _good_ and not mechanical or indifferent, just because he’d already gotten down on his knees for the other person.

Comparing Bucky to anyone else from his past of course was pretty stupid as he knew full well by now; and once again, Steve was realizing just how shitty his past partners had been as Bucky’s mouth worked on him, sucking and nibbling just light enough to cause his hips to jerk in response.

“Jesus Buck,” He groaned as the pressure increased, the head under his fingers bobbing rapidly. The careful manner the brunette carried was still present, but the loose urgency of the actions made Steve’s head spin; it was _aggressive_ and impatient, and he had to remind himself to breathe properly because he wasn’t entirely sure if Bucky was in a sober enough state to clamber down the stairs to get his inhaler if he needed it without breaking his neck in the process.

A strangled groan caught in Steve’s throat as his hips jerked again against the tight grip the other had on his waist. Bucky’s hot mouth dragged off of him, tongue sweeping over the saliva-slicked head before taking him back into his mouth, the action accompanied with an obscene slurp that made Steve’s eyes squeeze shut helplessly and mouth fall open.

Finally feeling the burning in his lower stomach, he tightened his grip on the hair that his fingers were threaded through. He gave a small tug of warning before croaking out the verbal one in courtesy; both were ignored, and if anything Bucky’s ardent attentions _increased_.

Steve shifted in attempt to gain the other’s attention again. The way his jeans were pulled down and around his thighs caused his movements to be somewhat restricted, and the heavy warm body on his knees didn’t quite help either…

 _He really didn’t mean to---?_ The concern Steve felt was lost as Bucky’s bright blue eyes looked up at him determinedly, throat swallowing around him and pulling him over the edge.

 

A slick _pop_ mixed with Steve’s heavy breathing cut through the room as Bucky pulled off of. The brunette smiled down at him with half-lidded eyes before he fell forward into the bed next to him, giving a nuzzle into Steve’s shoulder and then…nothing?

Steve blinked. “Buck?”

A soft snore floated into his ear as he stared at the ceiling.

“Are you kidding me?” He lolled his head to look over at the face that was smooshed up against his shoulder. _Yep. Passed out_.

Sitting up carefully, he pushed Bucky’s limp body over to lay him on his back. The buzz of his orgasm wearing off as he reached down and readjusted his pants, he zipped himself back up before taking and hauling Bucky’s arms around so that he could pull the other’s shirt up and over his head.

“you’re like a big kid, you know that?” steve grumbled, not attempting to hide the smile that was on his face as he let one of the arms fall dead weight onto the mattress. Bucky did and said nothing. _Of course._

 

He woke up the next morning because he was _cold._ Lifting his head, he found that Bucky was hogging all of the covers, curled on the edge of the bed. He’d slept like a dead man and Steve had had to poke at him a few times during the rest of the night to make sure that was just indeed just a euphemism.

He looked at the clock on his phone. The rising panic subsided when he realized that thankfully he wasn’t late for work--yet _._ With a grunt, he pushed at the lump of fluffy comforter and sheets with his foot.

“Buck. Wake up.”

An incoherent noise floated from under the mass.

“I gotta go to work, I’m gonna take a shower. Ok?”

A groan, and the lump shifted.

Taking that as a yes, Steve climbed up from the bed and moved out into the hall to make his way to the bathroom.

Commandeering several products from Bucky’s medicine cabinet, Steve took a hot shower and then returned to the bedroom to see that _surprise surprise_ , Bucky hadn’t moved an inch.

“I gotta get to work,” He stopped next to the bed, hands on his hips.

He’d have to hurry and change into his uniform before anyone noticed that he was wearing yesterday’s clothes. Neither was supposed to be there anyway, but knowing his luck both? Clint _and_ Tony would be hanging around for some dumb reason or another and he was too tired to deal with the teasing.

He leaned over and patted the lump of bedding where he assumed Bucky’s head was. “Call me when you get up.”

By the time Steve had boarded the train to head into midtown, he realized that he’d left his phone sitting on the bedside table.

 _Well shit_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-- [updated the mix](http://8tracks.com/redroses1791/a-mix-that-goes-with-something-else)
> 
> don't forget about re-track.com in case you just wanna pick out a single track to listen to, instead of having to sift through all twentysomething tracks :)
> 
> \--I'm aware there probably is a better/true name for a ramen dish with octopus in it, but google didn't help me out very much and let's just roll with it. 8D; 
> 
> \--*usual disclaimer of badly written intimate scene here* Don't got nothin' nice to say then just don't say it. 8|v 
> 
> \--No idea where Loki's as a painter came from. Really don't. He just sort of spit it out while Tony was being an asshole. 
> 
> But wait, what WAS Tony's deal?! Will we hear more about that? Prolly not?! Maybe?! I WAS thinking about doing a side-story with him and Loki as the main focus set during this story's happenings, but I have no idea what i'd really do with it overall. But now that he's gone and said that, I do have more ideas. Maybe if I get some interest, I'll give it some more serious thought but so far it's just something on the warming plate. Maybe after this fic is done and I feel like torturing myself more, I'll take it up. ~~That is if the sequel to this story doesn't come to fruition~~ *cough* What?
> 
>  
> 
> and I gotta say again, I totally adore the comments you guys leave!! They make me happy that you guys are so involved and excited about this thing :3 <3 xoxox!


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I dunno about you, but I’m starving. How about some Thai food after this?”
> 
> “Sounds good. But my place though... You owe me a horror movie, remember?”
> 
> The other’s face fell. “You’re still cranky with me, aren’t you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. Sorry this took a little longer than normal.
> 
> Part of the reason was because I was basically doing two chapters at once for a little while, making sure things were going to go the way I wanted them to so I could end this. Then about halfway through all that, I decided to scrap and re-arrange a bunch of stuff. Which was a 50-50 on Good vs Bad idea. Good meaning I had some stuff flow together a little better, Bad being that I got super burnt out on a lot of parts.
> 
> So uh... basically, THIS CHAPTER IS A LOT DIFFERENT THAN WHAT I HAD PLANNED AND I SORT OF HATE IT.  
> Some parts are choppy or too short, I could have expanded on more than a couple spots, but JUST TAKE IT AND IF YOU HATE IT **DON'T** TELL ME, OK? D; Same goes for weird grammar and the like. We only have one more chapter to go, just bear with me here. ;(v 
> 
> *SLAMS FACE INTO DESK, THROWS GLITTER* fiction? fiction.
> 
>  
> 
> I also updated the [MIX](http://8tracks.com/redroses1791/a-mix-that-goes-with-something-else). Go nuts. (Don't forget about re-track for skipping around)

 

 

Steve would have been lying if he said he did fine without his phone for the entire day. But by the time he left the restaurant and was heading back over to Bucky’s, he’d reached into his pocket at _least_ a half dozen times to check it. He was totally and completely disgusted with himself about that little fact.

He felt like an old man—a _tired_ old man; he was going on a _very_ small amount of sleep thanks to the previous night, and as he walked he ranted to himself about how everyone was so dependent on technology now, and _when the hell had he stopped wearing a wrist watch?_   He didn’t even know what time it was, let alone remember Bucky’s number to call ahead and make sure the other man was actually going to be home when he showed up.

When he finally reached the steps that lead up to the front door, he stopped short. A woman was already there, struggling to place a key into the lock all while balancing two large brown paper bags of groceries in her arms.

One of the bags ripped and a can fell out. He heard the woman mutter a few choice swears as the can clattered down the stairs, coming to a stop as it bumped up against his shoe.

“I heard that, mom!”

The large black SUV that was parked at the curb's rear passenger door had opened, and Steve could only see a pair of small feet clad in a pair of sparkly pink converse sneakers. He knew by now of course who the woman was that was trying to get into Bucky’s house, and he reasoned that the feet should only belong to the niece bucky was so over the moon for.

The door closed, confirming his suspicions. The freckled strawberry blonde-haired girl was holding tightly onto a baby carrier, a blanket draped over it to help protect the tiny being inside from the sharp chill in the air.

The girl noticed him instantly, and her eyes went wide.

“Mom! Steve’s here!”

“Who?” The woman finally had gotten the door open, dropping the bags onto the floor just inside in defeat, as the other bag had begun to rip as well.

“ _Steve._ ” The girl nearly stamped her foot as she rolled her eyes, looking over at him with an exasperated look. “Uncle Bucky’s boyfriend?”

Steve felt his cheek flush, and he wasn’t exactly sure _why_. Maybe because it was the first time he’d been referred to as Bucky’s _boyfriend._ Or more probably because it was an eight year old saying it so certainly. And _loudly_ ….

He gave a small awkward wave as the woman came down the stairs. Steve noted that she and Bucky shared a lot of the same traits; same blue eyes, same brown hair and strong jawlines. While Bucky was attractive, his sister could have probably been a model if she wanted to – and might have been, for all Steve knew. He only knew she didn’t work anymore so that she could be a stay-at-home mom.

“ _Steve_ , right,” She smiled apologetically, reaching her hand out. “Sorry. I’m Becca, It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Steve nodded, smiling as he shook her hand. “Congratulations by the way,” he motioned to the carrier Ali was holding.

“Thank you…James isn’t home yet, you want to come in and wait for him?” she reached out and took the carrier from Ali now that her hands were free. “He should be here any minute, I just got off the phone with him and he was on his way.”

 

Ali went on ahead into the house, peeling off her coat and hanging it on the rack next to the door before going into the studio. Notes began to trickle out of the room as Steve stopped to pick up the bags.

“Thanks,” Becca closed the door once he’d cleared the way. “I wish I had four hands, it’d definitely make life a whole lot easier.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, glad to help.” He followed her into the kitchen and glanced into the studio on the way by. “Is she getting a lesson today?”

Becca set the carrier down, pulling the blanket off to check on the baby. “Yeah, this is their third one. She’s really enjoying it so far.”

“Well Buck got pretty excited when she asked him to teach her, so I know he's really enjoying it.” Steve placed the bag onto the counter and began taking out the contents, setting them on the island as the woman moved around the kitchen. She grabbed a knife from a drawer and pulled out a cutting board, setting them out before opening the fridge up.

It wasn’t surprising to Steve in the slightest to see the way she moved around the kitchen so confidently--she’d lived there up until only a relatively short time ago. He wondered if it felt weird for her or Ali at all, seeing the different furniture and everything.

A small gurgling sound came from the carrier, and then a full-on crying fit followed quickly.

“Oh _Livy,_ ” Becca sighed, shutting the fridge door with her hip. She walked back over to the carrier, picking the tiny little human up against her chest and began to rock and shush her.

A dull buzzing noise emitted from the purse next to Steve’s elbow and the woman groaned. “And that would be my phone.” She glanced at Steve, then to the baby. “Do you mind?”

At first, Steve thought she was talking about getting the phone. _Then,_ he realized in horror, that she was talking about the _baby._

“I uh….” He winced. “I’ve never held a baby before, so—“

“Are you kidding me?” Becca gave him an incredulous look. “You wanna have a go?”

“I…..I guess?” He was at a loss of proper ediquette for a situation like this. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was just---

“Relax, you look just as freaked out as James did when he had to hold Ali the first time,” she laughed and moved closer to him. “OK, Liv,” Becca looked down at the baby, who had now stopped fussing. “This is Steve. Don’t gift him with barf or drool.”

_Oh. Great._

Steve tried his best to relax—and smile--as the woman held the baby into his chest. His hands reached up to gently hold the tiny body, grateful that Oliva didn’t crying again. She was only weirded out that some stranger was holding her now and not her mother, by the looks of it. He could handle that. 

“Just mind her head,” Becca coached. “And you can lean back a little, so she’s resting against you.”

Doing was he was told, Steve found that after a few minutes, it wasn’t so bad. Becca had gone to asnwer her phone, and he risked a glance down to Oliva’s little face. She still looked a little uncertain about the situation, but her eyes were slowly falling closed again and he was more than a little jealous at that; he wished he could just fall asleep whenever and wherever he wanted.

He heard the sound of the front door opening and then shutting, and Bucky’s voice called out. The sound of keys being tossed into the bowl on the table next to the door followed directly after that.

“Hey, that sounds good,” he was obviously speaking to Ali. “Keep going, I’ll be right there.”

Bucky appeared in the doorway of the living room and stopped in his tracks, clearly surprised at seeing him. Steve smiled, careful to not shift too much in fear of making Oliva upset with him. “Hi.”

The surprise was quickly replaced with a warm look as the brunette's eyes ticked over the scene. Grinning, Bucky tossed his jacket over the back of the sofa as he moved into the living room towards them. “Hey. I see Ollie’s given you the seal of approval.”

“Don’t call her that,” Becca threatened from the kitchen.

Bucky made a face at her. “It’s not like she knows.” He argued as he made grabby hands at Steve to hand the baby over. Steve was all too willing for that to happen and he carefully passed the bundle over.

“By the way, whatever she’s told you?” Bucky nodded at his sister. “ _Lies._ All of it.”

Becca snorted. “You don’t need me to make you look bad, you do that all on your own.”

Steve couldn’t help but snigger at the siblings as they began to playfully bicker, shaking his head while Oliva remained completely unware of what was going on above her head. He looked up to Bucky. “I forgot my phone last night, can I run up and get it?”

The other man gave him a lame look. “Of course you can. It died an honorable death of low battery though, I plugged it in on the nightstand.”

“Thanks.”

“You have any plans? Wanna stick around?” Bucky shifted Oliva a little.

“Sure, if you want me to,” Steve shrugged a little.

“Totally want.” Bucky leaned down, getting ready to kiss him until a throat clearing loudly sounded caused him to stop mid-tilt.

They turned. Ali was standing there, hands on her hips and giving a pointed and impatient look at her uncle.

“Are you coming or what?”

To Steve’s amusement, Bucky sputtered for a moment.

“Give me a minute, would ya!? Yeesh.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “He said he’s gonna stay, so you can kiss him _after_ my lesson.”

Steve felt his face heating and Bucky heaved a heavy dramatic sigh while placing the baby into the carrier. “Alright, alright, I’m comin’.”

 

 

When Steve returned to the kitchen, Becca had a large pot on the stove with a broth simmering.

“You know, I really have to thank you,” she spoke up suddenly.

Steve gave her a puzzled look from a seat at the counter, opposite of her. “Thank me?” he repeated.

The woman began slicing a potato. “For helping James. After he met you, it just seems like…he’s finally settled back in here.”

“Oh! Yeah, right,” he smiled. “The place really looks a lot better, doesn’t it? I don’t get how he was getting by without furniture.”

She looked up at him. “True, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Its….not?”

She shook her head. “When he moved back he was in a pretty bad place, you know? After you showed up he started getting back to the way he used to be.”

“I haven't really done anything,” he answered timidly.

“You’ve done more than you realize,” the woman said knowingly. “Just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing, ok?”

Steve smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

A small, understanding silence settled between them. The sounds of Ali’s lesson filled the air and Steve cleared his throat a little, desperate to change the subject now that it was becoming a little awkward.

“So uh…what’re you making, anyway?”

The woman seemed grateful for the help. “It’s sort of like a goulash,” she answered. “Our mom used to make it, but James hasn’t had it since before he left for California. It’s easy to make but he can’t cook worth crap, so I figured I’d do my Big Sister duty and make sure he gets fed on something other than take-out.” she grinned. "I keep telling him if he doesn't eat better he's gonna hit forty with a pot belly."

Chuckling, Steve recalling the evening he’d tried to explain to Bucky about how to make popcorn. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I had to kick him out of the kitchen a couple weeks ago. He's pretty hopeless isn't he?”

"You have no idea." She looked up from the cutting board, pointing with the end of the knife. “There’s a fire extinguisher under the sink, for future reference.”

“Noted.”

 

 

“Can she come over this weekend?”

Bucky was back in the kitchen with Ali nearly an hour later, leaning against the counter.

“Don’t you work on Friday and Saturday nights?”

“Yeah, but no school on Monday. She can come over Sunday, we can go to the aquarium or something and Mark can pick her up after he gets off work. If that’s cool with you,” he added on smoothly.

“Mom can I? Pleeeease?” Ali begged. "I'll get all my homework done before!"

“Yeah, pleeeeease?” Bucky mimicked.

Steve turned from the stove to see them wearing eerily matching pouty faces, sporting big doe-like eyes. He turned back quickly, fighting the laugh that was trying to escape out of his throat. He had a feeling that if he broke, Becca would probably kill him later for it.

“Wow,” Becca said in a monotone voice, crossing her arms at the two. “That is _so_ not rehearsed.”

“C’mon Becs, let her spend some time with her cool uncle.”

Becca sighed. “Well,” she said contemplatively. “Alright. If only if Steve goes along, too. God knows you both need the supervision the way you feed off each other.”

“Wait, what? _”_ Steve accidentally dropped the ladle into the pot, and it slowly began to sink out of sight. _Aw, shit…_

He spun around to look at the woman, helpless at what to say to that.

“Normally I would argue against having a babysitter," Bucky smirked at him over the counter. "But I can handle that condition,”

Steve’s eyes darted around the room to each face, suddenly feeling very outnumbered. He was certain that if Olivia knew what was going on, even _she_ would be against him.

“I have no plans? I guess?” He squeaked.

The scheming pair gave each other high-fives and Steve sighed quietly to himself as he turned to fish the utensil out of the pot with a fork.

 

 

“You gotta stay and try some,” Bucky insisted as he got some bowls out. “Mom would be insulted if you didn’t.”

The girls had left only minutes ago, and Steve was seated at the counter once again, blinking tiredly at the brunette who was grabbing two bowls from the upper cabinet.

He yawned. “Ok. But after, I’m gonna go home and crash.” He wiped at his face. “I’m going on about four hours of sleep and I’ve got work in the morning….”

Bucky looked sheepishly over at him, knowing the reason as to why that was. “Look, its already kind of late. Why don’t you just stay here?” he offered as he set the dish down in front of him. “I’m gonna be in the studio and you can have the whole bed to yourself. You won’t hear me at all.”

Steve shrugged as he picked up his spoon, pushing the contents of the bowl around in an attempt to cool it faster.

The brunette pouted at him. “C’mon, I hate being here by myself.”

"I'll be sleeping, I'll hardly be company for you."

The brunette whined. "But I'll know you're here. It's a mental thing."

“Well, your bed _is_ pretty comfy….”

 

 

Steve woke up inside a world of fluffy warmth, hearing the faint playing of piano coming through the cracked bedroom door. Glancing at the clock, he noted that it had been about three hours since he’d gone to sleep. Still a little groggy, he reached out, blindly feeling for his phone and yanking on the charging cord to pull it under the sheets with him. The bright glow caused him to squint his eyes as he pecked out a message.

[can’t hear you, huh?]

He smirked, pressed send, and waited. Several moments later he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and the door of the room was quietly pushed open. Dim light spilled in from the stairway and Steve peered out from under the covers to see Bucky leaning against the door frame with a smile.

“Sorry,” he called out softly. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah.” Steve snaked his arm out from under the bedding, patting the empty space next to him. The comforter poofed up under the action.

Bucky plodded over with socked feet, setting something down onto the nightstand before moving to climb up on the bed with him. He rested back against the headboard and Steve rolled over, scooting closer as an arm draped around him.

“What you working on anyway?” Steve had closed his eyes as one of Bucky’s hands reached up, fingers combing through his hair.

“Nothin’ really,” The other's voice rumbled under his ear. “Just stuff. I keep it in my head too long and it gets all jumbled up. I write it out so I see it.”

Steve squeezed him tighter. “I see.” _Well, sort of._

“Hey, are you really ok with Sunday?” Bucky asked suddenly.

“Sure.” he looked up at him, raising a brow. “Your sister made a good point. Someone's gotta keep an eye on you.”

Bucky laughed. “She likes you, you know.”

Steve gave him a dubious look even though he was already fully aware of that little fact. “She just met me.”

“Hey, don’t complain.” Bucky pulled him down into his chest, causing Steve to let out an ‘oof’ of air at the impact. “It’s a good thing she likes you, otherwise it’d be a problem.”

 “What, if I didn’t pass her inspection, you’d dump me?”

 “Something like that."

Steve grabbed a pillow and stuffed it over his face.

“Hey!” Bucky laughed as Steve moved over him, straddling his hips and smacking him with the pillow again.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! God!” The brunette managed to grab the pillow, yanking it away and throwing it off the bed to neutralize the threat.

Steve happened to glance over and catch sight of what Bucky had set down before climbing onto the bed; A small rush of excitement shot through him and he turned his head back.

“Buck?” He asked slowly.

Fingers began to walk along his thigh. Bucky bit his lower lip as he looked up at him from under his long lashes. “Yeah?”

“Is there some motive as to why you brought my inhaler up here with you?”

Bucky's eyes widened innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Steve.”

Steve attempted to frown; but the way those big blue eyes batted up at him made it somewhat difficult. With a sigh, he moved to climb off the bed but the brunette let out a small noise, his hands tightening and pulling him back.

“No idea, huh?” Steve swallowed hard as hips rolled up into him. Bucky leaned up to mouth at his neck, one of his hands slipping under his shirt.

“None whatsoever.”

 

 

When Steve had wrenched the back door open of the restaurant the next morning, nearly every muscle in his body was aching in protest. As he dashed for the locker room, he nearly collided with Sam.

“Woah!” The other waiter leap to the side to avoid the impact. He gave Steve a quick sweep and grinned. “You’re lat--”

“I know, I know!” Steve groaned, shoving past the other and choose to ignore the obviousness of his situation. He could deal with the ribbing later, _after_ he got changed.

Sam however, didn’t think so. “Long night, buddy?”

Huffing, Steve turned. “Just get out there and start setting up, I’ll be there in a second,” he shoved the door closed in his face without waiting for a response, and sat down on the bench to take a moment to catch his breath. Thanks to Bucky, he’d slept right through his alarm. He’d scrambled out of bed in a blind panic, cursing at the brunette the entire way to the shower.

To his frustration, the other had just lay there, watching with a pleased cat-like grin on his face.

Not that he was regretting anything from the night before. Granted yeah, he'd had to use his inhaler twice, but the way other’s hands had pulled and pushed and held onto him had been totally worth it and he had loved it; loved the way the brunette coaxed and praised him through it all with a rasping voice against his skin, loved it when he’d been goaded on with a playful smirk and blazing blue eyes…

He was just  _not_ loving how he needed coffee and a handful of asprin to get him through the aftermath.

And Bucky was probably still in bed sleeping.

_Jerk._

 

Throwing a quick greeting to Loki, Steve rushed out into the dining room. Sam had already gotten the table cloths spread out, by the looks of it that was thanks to---

_Clint._

Groaning to himself, Steve went directly to the cart and began setting the tables, ignoring the eyes that followed his every move.

“So, what’d you do last night?” Sam grinned from three tables over.

“I think the question here really is ‘who did _you_ last night’,’” The bartender chimed in.

Steve glared over at him. “What are you even still doing here?”

Clint shrugged. “Had to talk to Bruce and make sure he remember to cover my shifts while me and Nat are gone. Was about ready to leave until Sam told me I _might_ wanna stick around....”

“What?” Steve blinked. “Where you going?” He didn’t recall Natasha saying anything about it.

“My brother’s. Gonna get all the holiday crap done in one fell swoop. Nat sprung it on me the last second so I couldn’t get out of it,” he finished in a sharp huff.

 _Well, that explained why he didn't know about it._ The universe had just balanced itself out, and Steve snickered to himself as he continued to work.

 “I’m jealous,” Sam sighed as he grabbed a handful of silverware sets from the cart. “Wish I could get out of town for a while.”

“If I could send you in my place, I would,” the bartender deadpanned. “I hate going out there.”

“Are you kidding? It’s the _country_!” the waiter exclaimed. “Fresh air, no city noise, no yellow cabs far as the eye can see….you might even get some snow!” the waiter shook his head. “You gotta appreciate the little things, man.”

“If I wanted to appreciate all that I’d still be living in Bumfuck Nowhere, Iowa,” the other grumbled. “It’s gonna take us _three hours_ to get to the house from the airport!”

“Well at least you have family to go visit,” Steve threw him a look. “Don’t take it for granted.”

“I know,” Clint sighed, rolling his head back to stare up at the ceiling.

 

His shift had _dragged_. When Steve finally shuffled into his apartment later that afternoon, he could barely keep his eyes open. In the back of his mind the responsible adult he usually was nagged at him, telling him that he really should at least _part_ of his usual weekend obligations done since he wasn’t going to be around.

Well, he _assumed_ he wasn’t going to be around. He’d only been technically invited to go to the aquarium. Which if that was the case, it would give him plenty of time to play catch-up on boring things like scrubbing the tub or going grocery shopping on Monday.

In a zombie-like fashion, Steve changed into his sleeping clothes all while contemplating just texting Bucky and asking. The last thing wanted to do was overstep and be some kind of third wheel for their bonding time. Or worse….. _what if Ali didn’t like him?_ He’d only said probably four sentences to her the day before, and that was hardly grounds for approving or disapproving of her uncle’s boyfriend.

He sighed, letting out a groan as he let his body fall onto his bed.

It was definitely better to just ask.

Once he’d sent the message off, he shut his eyes, willing himself to sleep. Half a second later the device he was clutching in his fingers rang. With a another groan, he pressed the speaker button and lay it on the pillow next to him.

“ _What kinda question is that?”_ Bucky demanded before he could even say ‘hello’.

“A polite one?” Steve closed his eyes again as his neck finally released the tight feeling it’d held all day.

“ _Of course you’re staying over,”_ the brunette’s voice was puzzled. “ _Why wouldn’t you?”_

“Well…what if she doesn’t like me or something?” Steve felt stupid as soon as he heard himself say it out loud. He winced at the silence he received from the other end.

Bucky let out a soft sigh. “ _Steve, you’re totally overthinking this. She’ll like you.”_

“You don’t know that,” he argued, pouting. He tucked his legs up closer to himself as he turned to look at the phone. "What if--"

“ _Just relax,”_ Bucky assured. His tone then turned teasing. “ _How’re you feeling, anyway?”_

“I still have muscles hurting that I didn’t even know I _had_ ,no thanks to you,” he grumbled accusingly, glaring at the phone.

“ _Sorry_.”

Steve snorted. “No you’re not.”

“ _I am!”_ The brunette protested. “ _Well, not enough to promise you I won’t do it again…_ ”

“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Barnes.”

 

 

 

Friday night was the usual frantic rush in the kitchen. The dining room however was still the same relaxed and posh atmosphere, the only thing giving away how busy it truly was was the handful of people floating around the bar. But part of that Steve chalked up to it being _Loki_ behind the counter—Clint was great at his job, but people just seemed to always gravitate towards the tall raven-haired man. It was a great distraction for the busy nights though, people tended to not get as annoyed waiting for their tables as they usually did with him on duty.

Towards the end of the evening Tony showed up. He hadn’t noticed the other’s appearance until Maria had seated him in his section, and by then it was too late to do anything about it. Sighing inwardly, he braced himself as he put on his usual smile, approaching the table. Tony had a guest with him; An older man with a somewhat cold air about him and thinning brown hair, dressed in a sharp suit with a tie that probably was worth more than Steve made in a month.

Steve was surprised that Tony seemed to be on his best behavior, none of the usual jabs or quips were given as he severed them. It felt a little odd, having the snarky man be so courteous towards him; it almost felt like a trap, and Steve was more on-edge than if the owner would have been his usual self.

Tony and his dining companion stayed until closing— _that_ wasn’t surprising. Leaving the task of shooing them out the door to someone else, he worked around the now only occupied table, pulling the linens and dumping them into the laundry bin.

He swung by the piano where Bucky was busy packing up his sheet music, picking up the empty glass the other had been using throughout the evening.

“I dunno about you, but I’m starving,” The pianist sighed. "How about some Thai food after this?”

 “Sounds good. But _my_ place though. You owe me a horror movie, remember?”

The other’s face fell. “You’re still cranky with me, aren’t you.”

 

“Hey Barnes, c’mere for a second!”

Tony. Rolling his eyes, Steve shared a look with Bucky, shrugging. “I’ll wait for you in the back.”

"Sounds good," the brunette answered as he gathered up his things. Steve watched as Bucky walked over to the table with his satchel in hand, and the first few buttons of his collar undone. Steve couldn’t hear what was being said, only seeing that Tony was introducing his guest and Bucky reaching out to shake his hand.

 

When he emerged from the locker room a short time later, Bucky still hadn’t shown up.

Going out into the now empty kitchen, he neared the door and pushed it open just enough to peek out; sure enough, the brunette was still sitting at the table with Tony and the other guy.

“It’s rude to spy,” Loki’s voice came from above him.

He leapt back from the door, and the tall man was looming over him, a smirk on his face. Steve realized at that moment that he’d never seen the other in something other than job-related clothing. Or, _with his hair down_. Steve had to admit that other looked impressive, dressed in a stylish wool peacoat with dark blue jeans and smooth leather boots. He looked even taller than usual, if that was possible. Probably because he wasn’t standing behind a counter. Steve could see why Tony always bothered him; you’d have to be blind or lying through your teeth if you said the guy wasn’t attractive.

“Well I’m curious. Aren’t you?” He said defensively, embarrassed about getting caught.

Loki frowned a little, glancing at the door as if he could see through it. “Only as to how it’s going.”

“How _what_ is going, exactly?” he studied Loki carefully.  “You know who that guy is?”

“His name is Phil Coulson, he’s involved with some of the more prominent theater companies in this city,” Loki explained. “Stark mentioned Barnes to him, and he was keen to meet him.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?” he looked back towards the door.

Loki seemed to struggle not to roll his eyes. “Why would I joke?”

 

 


	13. Chapter thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky snorted. “Dude, you’re gonna electrocute yourself.”
> 
> “Well now I am since you jinxed me, asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I wanted to get this all finished off before/during Christmas, but obviously that didn't happen. (oops) But you're seeing right, I added another chapter! ;)v
> 
> Like the last few chapters, I've been working on this one so much/for so long that I'm just tired of trying to tweak it and I give up, and am just posting it. I tried to clean it up best I could and made sure I didn't overuse any words like I'm prone to do, and I'm more than certain there's comma splices and weird sentences left in there. Its a bit weak in areas, especially since we jump around a bit, but I'm thinking most of you that have stuck with me so far don't give a shit, so here we go....
> 
> *throws glitter* fiction! (and Happy New Year)

Bucky ended up walking into the kitchen with an audition for later in the week. Once the initial shock had worn off, the pianist excitedly recounted everything to Steve as he changed out of his tux.

“He’s got a production he’s putting together for the end of this next year,” Bucky tugged his shirt over his head. “It’s kinda small, compared to what he’s done before. But he’s been having problems getting a composer.”

 “What sort of problems?” Steve frowned, watching Bucky flip his locker shut.

“The director. The guy’s been fighting Phil on it every step of the way,” The brunette explained as he slipped his jacket on. “Apparently the guy’s just a real hard-ass.”

Steve sniggered. “He said that, huh?”

“Well,” Bucky grinned. “Not in so many words….”

 

 

“Ok, why would a parent close their kid’s frigging door?” Bucky glared at the screen, mouth full of noodles.

Steve nudged his elbow into the other’s as they watched the screen. “It’s a horror movie, that’s why. Common sense doesn’t have any place here.”

“S’just stupid, man. Bad parenting!” The brunette yelled, pointing his fork accusingly at the mother on the screen before scooping up another mouthful of food. “My parents always kept our doors open when we were kids.”

“Mine too, my mom always—“

“Oh my God what the _fuck_ is that?!”

 _Here we go._ Steve had to shove another forkful of food into his mouth to stifle his laughter at the other man’s reactions to the creature that had shifted in the boy’s closet.

Bucky groaned, throwing his arms up in frustration. “Hiding under your covers does _shit,_ kid!”

Usually, Steve _hated_ when people did commentary during a movie. In fact, there was long period of training Clint to keep his mouth shut that involved quarters and a jar. But he didn’t mind it at all now because good _lord,_ Bucky’s reactions were priceless and exactly what Steve had been aiming for. Not to mention it was serving to be a good distraction from overthinking what had happened in the restaurant earlier in the night.

Oh and….whatever helped the brunette process it all so he would be able to sleep later.

“Oh my--OK THAT KID JUST GOT SUCKED UNDER HIS BED. WHAT ARE YOU MAKING ME WATCH, STEVE?!”

Bucky was a trooper and made it through the entire movie. Granted, it took more than a few bouts of swearing loudly at the screen with colorful words strung together in creative fear-induced ways. When Steve finished brushing his teeth, he exited the bathroom, his hand just about to flick the light off when Bucky’s voice carried through the apartment.

“Leave that on.”

Steve froze, glancing at the switch for a long moment.

Noticing his hesitation, Bucky called out again. “I mean it, Steve.”

Choosing to be merciful –and wanting to sleep in his own bed-- he left it on, along with leaving the door open to allow maximum light into the apartment. Padding over to the bed, Bucky was already under the covers, glaring up at him.

“You’re a horrible person.” he pouted accusingly.

“Gee I don’t know what you’re talking about, Buck,” Steve said innocently, plugging his phone into the charging station on the bedside table.

The brunette grunted, holding the covers up in invitation. “Just hurry up.”

Steve struggled to keep a straight face as he got into the bed. As soon as he was situated comfortably on his pillow, Bucky latched around him, a leg even snaking around his own. Then and there, Steve made a mental note to never ever make the other watch scary films in the summer time; it’d probably be the death of him.

“I hate you,” Bucky grumbled into his neck. “Why do you even like those movies?”

Sighing, Steve only smiled and let his hands rest onto the arms wrapped around his waist. “G’Night Buck.”

He’d nearly drifted off to sleep when Bucky spoke again.

“The closet door is closed, right?"

Steve snorted, not being able to help the sharp laugh that escaped his throat.

“I’m serious. Did you close it?”

 

 

**Sunday**

 

“The girls are here!” Steve shouted up the staircase.

He heard a muffled answer, but didn’t understand a word of it. With a small sigh, he headed for the front door. Steve had repeatedly reminded the other man for _hours_ when Becca was going to show up with Ali. But, he supposed, he should have known better to just assume that Bucky would actually hear him while working at the piano.

 _Oh well, lesson learned._ He was the same way with video games.

Before pulling open the door, Steve took a deep breath. He’d given himself a mental pep talk several times throughout the day, on top of the assurances Bucky had given him that morning when they’d woken up. He wasn’t going to let anything be awkward or boring. He was going to make sure Ali enjoyed herself to the fullest—Bucky, too.

 

Becca stood there with Oliva in her arms, Ali next to her. A backpack that looked like there was hardly any room left in it was slung around her shoulder and the girl was beaming up at him in excitement.

Steve felt himself getting nervous all over again.

_Great._

“Hey,” he grinned, stepping aside to allow them entry. “C’mon in. Buck will be down in a second.”

“Still the primping princess, huh?” Becca smirked. “He used to hog the bathroom when he was a teenager, he--”Footsteps came down the stairs and Becca whispered the rest. “He _loved_ his hair.”

Steve snickered quietly with Ali, and Bucky stopped at the foot of the stairs, eyeing them suspiciously.

“What?” he asked slowly.

“Nothing,” the three said in unison. Steve had to hand to Ali; she had a damn good poker face. He’d have to keep that in mind.

 

It took a considerable amount of time to get to the aquarium. They made quite the odd-looking trio as they moved along together, what with the polar opposite of Bucky’s usual rough-cut edgy black boots and leather ensemble to Ali’s bright pink trench coat –that admittedly, reminded Steve of a Barbie, and he still wasn’t sure if he should tell the girl the connection his brain had made with that or not.

Once they’d entered and cleared the main hall, Ali raced on ahead to look into one of the large panes of glass, getting almost lost in the handful of other kids that were already running around. She was easily taller than a lot of them, so to Steve’s relief it was no issue in keeping an eye on her. He could just envision how it would go down if they managed to lose her. _Sorry we lost your kid, Becca, we’ll--_

“Thanks for doing this, Steve.”

Snapping out of his scary daydream, he looked up and saw that Bucky was smiling warmly at him. Feeling his cheek flushing a little, he shrugged. “I told you, I don’t mind. Besides,” He looked back over to the tank that the girl was at. “She’s great.” It was no lie; they’d chatted practically the entire train ride over, and Steve found that the little girl was actually pretty mature for her age—and _smart,_ too.

“I gotta admit though,” he said a little embarrassedly. “I didn’t know what to expect today. I was a little scared we weren’t going to have anything to talk about.”

They watched as Ali took a photo of something in the tank and Bucky snorted. “You kidding? Dude, she likes you.”

“You think?”

The brunette gave him an even look. “She talked your arm off the whole way here. I almost got jealous.”

Steve smiled wryly. “Almost?” he teased.

 

A large pillar-like tank graced the center of the next room they entered, illuminated with a cool blue light that caused the hundreds of jellyfish inside to glow ethereally. Ali was staring up in awe at the display when they caught up with her.

“I wonder how they catch them all...”

“They can clone themselves,” Steve shrugged, watching the floating masses. “So they probably don’t have to get new specimens that often. Maybe.”

“They do?” the girl’s stared up at him. “That’s so cool!”

“Right?” Steve smiled. “There’s even some that can go back into its polyp—baby, stage. So it basically can live for like, ever.”

“Well look at you, full of surprises,” Bucky spoke from the other side of him. He hadn’t even noticed that the other had come up to stand next to them. “Since when do you know so much about fish?”

“I got sick a lot when I was a kid,” Steve shrugged, pushing his glasses up onto his nose. “So I read a ton to keep myself from going crazy.”

“And they’re not _fish,_ Uncle Bucky,” Ali corrected the brunette with a giggle. “They don’t even have brains. Right, Steve?”

 “Ohh, _excuse_ me,” Bucky teased. “I apologize to the…” He bent down to peer at the little information plaque. “Sy..Sy-fa…?”

“Scyphozoa?” Steve offered, not even looking.

“Nerd.”

 

 

After the jellyfish room, Ali didn’t go on ahead once. Sticking alongside them and asking questions about nearly everything they came across, Steve was surprised at how much he remembered from his elementary school days, answering most of them without even having to think very hard. He had been a little hesitant about hogging the girl’s attention at first, but judging from the smile Bucky had had on his face he really didn’t have anything to worry about.

Like all patrons of a museum or park, they ended up at the gift shop. Steve found himself being pulled along through the maze of cheap dollar store toys and expensive artisan wares that graced the shelves helplessly, until Bucky called after them.

“Hey guys, check this out…”

Turning, they discovered that the brunette was holding a large stuffed animal--whale shark, if he guessed it right. It was at least four inches taller than Ali and Steve let out a disbelieving scoff. “That is--“

“--The coolest thing _ever_!” Ali finished off, racing back to where her uncle stood and taking it from him.

Bucky grinned as Steve approached, reaching into the bin and pulling out another shark, a great white, complete with felt teeth that stuck out in jagged little rows.

“Buy one get one half off,” The brunette sing-songed in temptation.

Steve snorted. “And what are you gonna do with that?” he demanded lightly.

“Hey, read the tag. Body pillow.”

“For _kids._ Ages….” He reached out and flipped the tag over. “Six to twelve.”

“ _Suggested,_ ages six to twelve,” Bucky corrected, tucking the plush under his arm, the decision having obviously been made.

Sighing, Steve could only smile and shake his head. “What’re you gonna name this one?”

Bucky looked thoughtful at the shark’s face for a moment. “Huh. Good question. Might take a while.”

“Wait,” Ali spoke up. She gave her uncle a dubious look, and asked the question that Steve himself had asked not so long ago. “You’re gonna name it?”

“Duh,” Bucky shot back. “You’re not gonna name yours?”

The girl looked slightly weirded out. “Uhh…No...?”

The look of betrayal on Bucky’s face was adorable.

“Hey, Ali,” Steve grinned slyly. “You know that dinosaur he keeps on the piano?”

The girl looked at him wearily. “Yeah?” she asked slowly.

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Shut up, Steve.”

“He named that, too.”

“ _Steve,”_ The brunette let out a strangled choke, jaw dropping in dismay. “Just make me lose like fifty ‘cool uncle points’ in one fell swoop why dontcha!?”

“More like seventy five,” Ali muttered as she rolled her eyes, moving away from the bin to continue browsing the shop.

 

 

By the time they finished off one of the two large pizzas they’d ordered and cleared three movies, it was pushing eleven when Ali had started to nod off. Bucky then declared it bedtime and the girl didn’t even put up any fight about it; rubbing at her eyes and shuffling to the stairs, hugging onto the whale shark the entire way.

Shooing Bucky up to settle her in to bed, Steve took on the task of cleaning up the coffee table. After taking care of putting the leftover pizza into the fridge, he set to work on cleaning the dishes off of the coffee table.

His hands were full of dishes when Bucky came back down.

“Man,” he ran a hand through his hair tiredly. “That is one zonked out kid.”

“Well she had a big day,” Steve smiled knowingly as he dumped the plates into the sink. He tossed a rag to the brunette, who caught it easily. “Wipe the coffee table down?”

The brunette looked at him warmly for a moment. “Sure thing.”

Steve turned the faucet on and began scrubbing the dishes, starting when the rag was tossed into the sink a few minutes later, followed directly by a playful grope on his rear.

“Jesus Buck,” He let out a small laugh, throwing a playful glare over his shoulder at the other.

The other man grinned. “Sorry. You should really just expect me to do that when you’re in the kitchen by now."

“Don’t go trying to blame me for _your_ grabby hands,” Steve grumped, hips shifting because despite the reprimand, the hands hadn’t retreated. He gave him a disapproving look as a playful pinch was delivered.

“Buck, go to bed.”

With a smirk, Bucky leaned down and nuzzled into his ear. “Just so you know, after we get rid of the kid tomorrow? I’m thinkin' I’m gonna make you cranky with me again.”

Steve groaned. Partly in exasperation, and partly because of the shiver that the other’s mouth had caused to go up his spine.

 

 

Steve woke up that next morning to a soft kissing on his cheek. Groaning he rolled over and away, pulling his pillow over his head. He heard Bucky’s muffled laughter and the pillow was playfully tugged away.

“Are you gonna get up?”

He didn’t even open his eyes. “No.”

“C’mon,” The brunette whined. A hand played with the hem of his shirt, touching the small of his back. “It’s like, nine.”

Heaving another dramatic noise, Steve rolled back over and blinked his eyes open to stare blearily up at the brunette—that had shaved and showered already, it looked like. _Jealous._

As if reading his mind, Bucky chuckled and leant down to press a quick minty kiss onto his lips. “We’re downstairs, hurry up. Ali wants to challenge you to video games.”

“She plays video games?”

 

Once he’d made himself presentable, Steve clomped down the stairs to find Ali sitting on the floor directly in front of the television, the large whale shark under her as a makeshift cushion. She was watching some cartoon show and….eating pizza left over from the night before.

Saying good morning to her, he moved on into the kitchen to find Bucky at the island on his computer, eating the same thing. He gave the other a disapproving glance. “You shouldn’t let her eat that for breakfast.”

“It’s got vegetables on it,” The brunette argued. “And she’s drinking orange juice.”

Sighing, Steve said nothing more on the subject and went to the fridge. After surveying his options, he relented and flipped open the pizza box, grabbing a slice.

When he returned to the counter, Bucky grinned and said nothing. Steve just pretended he didn’t see it.

 

 

Later in the afternoon, Steve and Ali were battling one another in Mario Kart. Bucky had given up a while ago on trying to watch them—a supportive effort that was noted by Steve—and headed into the studio, leaving them to it. It was fine because Steve hadn’t had this good of an opponent in quite some time, and he was thoroughly enjoying it.

“Hah! Blue shell, loser!” Ali snarked victoriously.

Steve could only yell, elbowing her playfully as he tried to regain his lead. “That’s so freaking unfair, how do you keep getting those!?”

Ali cackled and pushed him back, nearly sending him sliding off the couch.

“Alright you two,” Bucky’s voice spoke up. “Do I gotta shut that thing off?”

Steve felt the cushions sink behind him a little, and reasoned that the other was leaning over them. Like hell he was going to take his eyes off the screen to confirm it.

“She started it,” he mashed a button.

Ali scoffed. “Did _not_ , you just suck at this game!”

Bucky chuckled. “Well, your mom is gonna be here soon. You all packed?”

“Yep.”

“Oh come on!” Steve groaned and released the tight grip he’d had on the controller when the screen notified him that he’d lost. _Again._

 "Rematch?" The little girl asked sweetly. _Too_ sweetly.

"You're _on."_

 

It wasn’t long after that when the doorbell rang, and Ali was getting ready to leave.

“Hi mom,” she chirped as she came down the stairs, heading to the car with her backpack slung over her shoulder. Bucky followed after her, carrying the large stuffed shark.

“Hey sweetie, have fun?” Becca eyed the large plush before eying her brother on his way past her. “Seriously?”

“What, I gotta spoil her a little,” The man protested. “It was Steve’s idea anyway.”

Steve had been standing on the top step, watching, and he gaped at the back of the other man’s head. “What-It was not!” He sputtered and looked helplessly at Becca.

“Don’t worry, I don’t buy it for a second. I’m surprised that that’s the only thing she was able to con out of him.”

As Bucky was busy loading up Ali and taking a moment to poke at Olivia, who was strapped safely in her carrier, Becca spoke up again.

“So, how’d it go?”

“Great,” Steve came down the steps, nodding. “ _She_ was great. Probably fed her entirely too much pizza, but we had a good time.”

Ali approached then, moving quickly at him so that she could throw her arms around his waist. He froze in surprise, eyes going wide and looking to Bucky and Becca in slight panic before he realized that the girl was _hugging_ him.

“Thanks Steve,” She squeezed her arms just a little tighter. “I had fun.”

“Y-yeah,” Steve smiled, relaxing as he gave her a small pat on the back. “I had fun, too. Maybe next time we can go to the zoo.”

The girl pulled back, practically glowing up at him. “Really?!” she asked excitedly. “Mom, is that ok?” she released Steve, much to his relief, to turn and look at her mother.

The woman held her hands up. “Talk to your uncle about it. But not now, we gotta get going.”

Saying goodbye, Steve and Bucky stood together and watched the car and pull away from the curb. When Steve glanced over and the other man was grinning widely.

“What?”

“Nothin’.”

 

Tuesday afternoon, Steve was perched on a ladder in the living room of Clint and Natasha’s apartment, hovering in front of a large and mostly bare tree.

“Hang more on the left,” Natasha instructed as he handed an ornament up to him. “It’s getting a little heavy on the other side.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“If you ‘ma’am’ me one more time, I’m kicking the stool out from under you.”

Snickering, Steve did as he was told, finding an empty branch to place the bauble on.

That’s when his phone rang.

He froze, eyes darting to the coffee table. He’d been waiting for Bucky; he had made the other promise to call him as soon as he was out of his meeting with Coulson, and thankfully Natasha had invited him over to help decorate the tree after work-- he would have been a stir-crazy mess if he had been sitting in his apartment by himself.

“Great, could use a break anyway,” Natasha stepped back, eyeing the tree as a whole again. “I think we need more lights.”

Carefully climbing down the ladder, Steve shook his head. “You have five strands on there already. I need sunglasses to look at it.”

Snatching up his phone, he slid his thumb across the screen and put it to his ear before the red head could argue with him.

“Buck? How’d it go?”

“ _Well hi to you too,”_ the brunette chuckled on the other end of the line.

“Sorry, sorry. Hi,” Steve sat on the couch, practically vibrating with nerves.

Bucky laughed again. “ _S’fine,”_ He sounded like he was out on the street someplace, if the honking of cars was anything to go by. “ _So I just literally got out. You wanna know how it went?”_ he teased slowly.

“Yes!” he blurted, not rising to the teasing. “I’m assuming by your tone it went well?”

“ _Went totally well. I got it.”_

Every muscle in Steve’s body sagged against the couch in relief. “Buck, that’s…..that great,” he suddenly was exhausted; he didn’t realize he was wound up so tight. Natasha had left the room at some point and was only just coming back in, casting a curious look to him. He held his thumb up, grinning, and realized that Bucky was talking again.

“ _The director showed up. God, that guy is fucking intense,”_ Bucky said in a rush of breath. _“They gave me the script, I need to read through it and come up with some stuff by our next meeting,”_ Bucky continued. “ _I’ll have to start going to rehearsals when those start, too.”_

Steve listened to Bucky rattle on, settling himself down onto the couch a little better. Natasha left him be as he yanked out another set of lights from a box.

 

 

 

**Christmas Eve**

Steve took another sip of hot buttered rum from his mug. He was going on his second cup, and had more than a pleasant buzz going thanks to the heavy hand Clint had had when he added the booze.

Clint and Bucky however, were drunk. Well, not _drunk_ drunk. Clint was still talking coherently, but gesturing wildly as he recounted some story to Bucky. And Bucky, well…..he was laughing _way_ too hard at the bartender’s dumb antics.

A cheesy holiday movie played in the background. He was half-heartedly paying attention to it, tuning in and out. That’s when the lights went out with a _whump_ that caused Steve’s stomach to drop in surprise.

“Aw damnit,” Clint groaned from somewhere in the pitch black living room. “I told everyone to cool it on the Christmas crap.”

“Just go flip the breaker back on, Mr. Grinch,” Natasha’s cool and collected voice cut through the darkness. There was some rustling, and someone’s cellphone glowed eerily as it was held up to illuminate the space.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky raised his phone higher to look over at Clint. “You can’t just go down there and screw around with that stuff, man. You could get fined or something.”

Steve patted around the coffee table for his own phone. “Clint owns the building, Buck. Technically he’s allowed to.”

“Are you shitting me?”

 _Aha_. Steve found his phone, pressing on the screen to light it up. Clint let out a strangled noise from the left. At least, it sounded like he was on the left. He tilted his phone and confirmed that yep, the bartender was standing there and… looking pretty insulted.

“Is it that hard to think of me as a land lord?”

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. “Yes.”

“Fuck you.”

“Be nice, boys,” Steve could see the smirk Natasha wore before he even turned his light source onto her.

“Steve, you go with him and make sure he doesn’t kill himself going down the stairs.”

He gave Natasha a dry look. “What good would I do if he fell down the stairs?”

“You could break my fall, for one,” Clint piped up, already having made his way over to the door and struggling with his shoes. “You comin’ too Bucky Boy?”

“Hell yeah, I gotta see this.”

“See _what?_ ” Clint demanded. “Admit it, you just wanna hold my hand.”

 

 

Later—later than what normally would have been for a jaunt down to the basement, no thanks to the inebriated levels the two men that fought for the lead down the stairs-- they finally were in the bowels of the building. Steve didn’t fail to notice the way Bucky never left his side, and he didn’t attempt to hide the smirk that came to his lips.

“You ok there, Buck?”

“Shut up,” the other man grunted. “You just had to pick a movie where shit comes for you through the dark, didn’t you.”

 Steve shrugged, even though he knew the other couldn’t see it. “I have no regrets.”

“Would you two give me some light?” Clint demanded. “I can’t see shit.”

“So how’d you end up with a building, anyway?” Bucky asked as he and Steve held up their lights for Clint to see the large electrical box.

 Clint flipped the metal door open. “Long story….” He peered at the rows of switches. “Eenie meenie miny mo…”

Bucky snorted. “Dude, you’re gonna electrocute yourself.”

“Well _now_ I am since you jinxed me, asshole.”

Steve laughed quietly, raising his phone a little higher.

“Ok!” Clint spoke up again. “Found it. Here we go….”

There was a loud bang of a switch being flipped, and the lights popped back on.

“Hah! See? Nothing to it.”

 

 

 

Shortly after midnight, Bucky and Steve walked down the empty street, fresh snow crunching under their feet. They’d have to call a cab, once they got onto the main street-- which was fine. Neither of them wanted to give up the cold air or the almost surreal quiet state the world was in.

“So what you wanna do for New Years?”

Steve shrugged and leaned into the other’s warmth, hands shoved in his coat pockets. “Times Square? He joked.

“Oh _hell_ no,” Bucky laughed dryly.  “It’s like the statue of liberty. Go once to say you have, and then _never again.”_

Humming thoughtfully, Steve’s brow furrowed a little at realizing something. “I’ve never been to that, either.”

Bucky jerked away from him; Steve was impressed that he didn’t slip.

“What!” The brunette demanded. “They made _everyone_ go like in fourth grade, Steve.”

He shot the other man a cheeky grin. “I managed to get sick that day?”

“Lucky bastard,” Bucky kicked at a clump of snow, spraying ice everywhere.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-- Do old buildings in the middle of a city randomly blow a breaker or whatever? I'm not sure. Prolly not. So we'll just pretend that yes, they can.
> 
> And like always, anything else? Just go with it. We're almost done. Thanks for the comments and kudos, we're at 7,000+ views right now so uh, holy shit? 0_o;


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky screeched when Steve slipped back into bed. “Oh my God your feet are freezing!”
> 
> “Well you’re the one who forgot to turn the heat on before we went to bed!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, this is the end!!
> 
> ....well, maybe not the END, end. I have a feeling that there might be some one-shots in the future. (unless the sequel to this puts itself together and I actually can get some chapters from it...not holding my breath tho.) but, i'm looking forward to having some fun random stuff to post and not having to follow a storyline. :)
> 
> That being said, if any of YOU have some ideas or want to see something followed-up on, by all means send me a message and i'll def take a look at it and see what I can come up with. I know i'm going to miss writing these dorks and just miss working on something in general, so no idea is a bad idea! <3 
> 
> I wanna say thank you to everyone who commented, left kudos and made the hit counter go up. It's crazy, I never thought I'd get 14 chapters out of that first little bit that I came up with after a friend told me what happened to her one morning on the way to work ;)v Dusting it off and editing it was one of the best choices I've made and you guys def made this really fun to write. <3 So thanks for the support.
> 
> So, hope this last chapter is ok. I'm pretty comfortable with it and I just wanted to hurry up and post it, so I guess what's done is done! :)
> 
>  
> 
> [Updated the mix ](http://8tracks.com/redroses1791/a-mix-that-goes-with-something-else) too, so have fun with that :)v

_“Steve,”_ A voice hissed urgently into his ear.

A warm puff of air on his cheek. Steve turned his head with a grunt, curling his legs up. “What?”

Well, that was what he had _meant_ to say—all that came out was a garbled throaty noise that made him wince. _Attractive, Rogers_. He cleared his throat, and tried again.  “What izzit?”

The weight next to him on the bed shifted. “It’s Christmas.”

Steve couldn’t stop the smile that slowly began to spread on his face. He still had to open his eyes, but he knew that from the tone alone that the other was more than likely grinning. He felt Bucky’s hand close over his shoulder and give a gentle shake.

“Up.”

“Dun wanna.”

He received a grunt as an answer; Bucky was pouting now. Steve rolled over, having no idea what time it was, not that he really cared. He just didn’t want to give up the warmth of the bed quite yet and _stupid Bucky was totally trying to ruin it,_ _so help him_ —a gentle kiss stopped Steve in mid-mental threat. The soft lips that touched his had a drastic contrast what with the stubble that rubbed on his cheek, and it caused a thrill to go up his spine.

Well, he was awake now. _Damnit._

Steve could feel the other’s smile before spoke again.

 “Don’t you wanna open your present?”

Something with a little bit of weight was set on his chest. He finally relented, opening his eyes. Bucky’s smiling face greeted him, bedhead and all, his fingers making an impatient tapping noise against the flat object that he’d set down.

“C’mon, open it.”

Yawning, Steve hauled himself upright to lean back onto his arms. He glanced down at the green and red wrapped object that had slipped down onto his lap, then back up to the brunette. “Lemme go get yours first. I left it downstairs.”

Bucky waved his hand. “Get it later.”

Ignoring the other man, Steve slipped his legs to the side of the bed. “It’ll take just a second,” he assured.

A groan followed him out the bedroom door, and as he made his way down the stairs he regretted not putting on some socks first; the wood floors were freezing, causing cramps to shoot up into his calves. Grumping and shivering in his shorts and thin t-shirt he went to the living room, clicking the heater dial on to ensure that when they finally came down later it’d at least be a habitable temperature.

 

Bucky screeched when Steve slipped back into bed. “Oh my _God_ your feet are freezing!”

Steve pushed his legs farther over to the other’s side of the bed, laughing as the other jerked away. “Well _you’re_ the one who forgot to turn the heat on before we went to bed!” he scolded, handing over the box he’d gotten from his bag. “Here.”

The brunette smiled and took the package, setting it down onto the bed. “You go first.”

 

It was a book. One that was known to Steve, but only through drooling at a computer screen--a collection of art and notes from one of his favorite directors, that had been published just a year or so ago. He’d never seriously entertained the idea of actually _buying_ it though, because it was expensive _._ Like half his month’s rent, sort of expensive.

Torn between elation and wanting to chastise the other for blowing that much money on something—ok, while completely awesome—so frivolous, he looked up at Bucky. The hopeful way that he was looking at him caused the guilt in his chest to vanish.

“So you like it?”

Steve swallowed, glancing down at the cover again. “That’s putting it lightly,” he laughed, shaking his head. “How’d you come up with this?” It was a question that begged to be answered, because Bucky steered clear of any and all horror so how had he had _any_ idea this was something that he’d want?

The other man shrugged, and smiled. “You don’t have any of your movies in alphabetical order,” he answered simply. Like Steve was supposed to know what that meant.

“So?” Steve gave him a skeptical look.

“ _So_ ,” The brunette poked. “I figured you had them by what you liked the most. And, by simple sleuthing my dear Rogers,” Bucky continued on, slipping in to a too-good English accent. “I deduced that they were all created by the same—“He stopped, a sour expression crossing his face. “Actually, you know what? Sayin’ this all out loud makes me look like some weird-ass creep that just pawed through your stuff. So I’m just gonna shut my mouth.”

With a quiet snort, Steve moved closer. “It doesn’t,” he promised, craning his head to give him a kiss and smiling at the feeling of the scratchy stubble. “Thank you.”

“Well you’re welcome,” Bucky smiled. “So….can I open mine now?”

Steve smirked. “Go for it.”

 

Once Bucky had made short work of the wrapping paper, he opened the box to find a surprise; another box. It was Natasha’s idea that originally designed to keep Clint from peeking; but it worked just as well for Steve’s purposes.

“Ok, that’s just mean,” Bucky pouted, yanking out the slightly smaller and perfectly wrapped box. He eyed Steve for a long moment, hands freezing over the bow on the top. “There’s not another box in here, is there?”

Steve shrugged innocently.

 

Three more boxes—and several threats--later, Bucky finally uncovered the gift. Steve had purposely placed it in a plain, unmarked white envelope in hopes to kill the ‘dramatic reveal’. The look on the brunette’s face confirmed that he’d achieved the desired result, and he couldn’t help but be deviously pleased with that.

“Just look inside,” Steve rolled his eyes at the unimpressed look he was getting from the other. “That’s it, I promise.”

Bucky’s fingers flipped the edge of the envelope open, and pulled the contents out. A hard gold-rimmed laminated credit card-sized piece of plastic fell from the folded piece of paper that it had been tucked in with.

“It’s a VIP season pass for that ‘movies in the park’ thing,” Steve explained as the other looked the card over curiously, the edging glinting in the lamp light. “You get all sorts of extra perks with it like seating and stuff.” He unfolded the paper that he’d printed off the website that listed out everything.

“The bad part is that you can’t use it until the summer,” Steve admitted sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “So-“

“Steve.” Bucky stopped him. Steve shut his mouth, taken aback by the wide, excited eyes that stared at him.  “There is _no_ bad part about this present. I love it. And you’re gonna go with me to every single one. Right?”

He grinned. “Well that was sort of the point, yeah…”

 

 

The first floor of the house had risen to a pleasant, tolerable temperature by the time they rolled out of bed. Steve made a beeline for the kitchen and began pulling out pans and bowls to make breakfast, sporting more than a few splotchy red marks on his collarbone and neck.

 

“ _Die Hard_ is not a Christmas movie,” He argued for the fifth time.

Bucky was on the other side of the island with a cup of coffee and a dozen DVDs spread out in front of him. The brunette gave him a defiant look. “It is SO a Christmas movie.”

“It just _happens_ to happen during Christmas,” Steve argued, flipping the pancake over. “It’s not a focal point of the story. Therefore,” he turned and gave the brunette an even look, pointing at him with the spatula for emphasis. “ _Not_ a Christmas movie.”

“If the writer or whoever didn’t want it to be counted as a Christmas movie, they wouldn’t have put--” Bucky’s phone vibrated on the counter, cutting him off. He picked it up, checking the ID. “It’s Becca.” He pointed at him from across the counter. “This ain’t over.”

“Oooh,” Steve mocked. “Drop it, or I’m not giving you bacon to go with these.”

The other’s jaw clamped shut. The phone buzzed again and Bucky gave him the best glare he’d ever seen before swiping his thumb over the screen.

“Hey, Merry Christmas,” Bucky greeted as he stood up from the counter. “Yeah, Steve’s here too...”

A pause.

“Nothing much, we’re just arguing if _Die Hard_ is a Christmas movie and---

Another pause.

“It is _too_! _”_

 

 

Three days back into the work week, Steve wondered for the millionth time why it was that right after Christmas, people went back to being their horrible rude selves.

Well, alright. The first day back to work everyone was still pleasant. A fresh start from having a break. But as the days ticked by to the end of the year, patrons began getting fussier and picker by the hour and Steve wanted to rip his hair out--and it didn’t help things when a snob of a woman kept sending her plate back to the kitchen and Logan made everyone feel the brunt of his annoyance with _that.._.So yeah, that definitely was killing the last part of his shift, even if you didn’t include the part when a new hire smashed into him with a tray of drinks and spilled several types of alcohol all over him.

 

As he finished changing, he threw his shiny black shoes into the floor of his locker, slamming the metal door shut _hard._ Immature? Probably, but it made him feel a hell of a lot better.

“Woah. Bad day?”

He spun around, startled by the voice, not knowing he was being watched. The embarrassment that had flared up waned when he realized that it was only Bucky, standing just inside the door.

The brunette threw his hands up in surrender. “I come in peace?”

Steve attempted to smile. It was forced, but it seemed to make the other man relax a bit. “What you doing here?”

Bucky shrugged. “Got out of my meeting early, was in the area and figured I’d swing by and catch you before you left. Thought we could get lunch or somethin’.”

“Lunch sounds great, actually,” Steve sighed gratefully. “Someone can wait on _me_ for a change.”

 

“So they gave me the script today,” Bucky spoke as they walked down the street, dodging people in the attempt to walk side-by-side. “I’ll be eating and breathing this thing for the next couple months, so that’s good news.”

“It’ll take you that long?” Steve slipped between a cluster of people, avoiding a pile of snow. “Writing it, I mean?”

“No, I’ll get most of it done within a couple weeks. But shit changes as thing progress, y’know? Plus the director wants me to do all the incidental stuff, too. I’ll have to make up all that on the spot once rehearsals star tho so that’s gonna be tricky. I haven’t done any of that since I was in school.”

Steve threw him a confused look. “Incidental?”

“Like, for cues or dramatic moments,” The brunette explained. “Or for scene changes. Filler, basically. Everything’s got it.”

“I see,” Steve frowned thoughtfully. He’d never thought of that before, and he suddenly felt overwhelmed for the other as it dawned on him that every movie that he’d ever seen of _course_ had something like that, and someone obviously had to put it together…

_Huh. The things you take for granted._

“So what are we doing for New Years?” Bucky asked him, breaking him from his thoughts. “Any ideas?”

“Nope, but I have it off, I made sure,” Steve smiled up at him. “Even if we just stay in, it’s fine.”

The brunette snorted, throwing his head back. “Are you kidding? I’m takin’ you out _somewhere._ Besides, once I start working I dunno when I’ll really have a lot of free time, and—“

Steve’s world suddenly tilted, feet slipping out from under him. He latched onto Bucky out of sheer stupid instinct, and for a split second he saw the tops of the buildings against the grey sky until the other righted him again, taking them off the sneaky patch of ice that they’d wandered onto.

“Thanks,” Steve said shakily, giving an uneasy little laugh as his heart hammered in his chest. Bucky’s arm was still around him, holding him tightly. “How did I not take you down with me?”

“I was on a hockey team when I was a kid. You never forget the balance thing,” Bucky chuckled. “You ok?”

“Hockey? That would have been a death wish when I was kid,” Steve muttered.

“So…does that mean you’ve never been ice skating?"

“Nope,” he smiled wryly.

“Jesus. Alright, that’s it,” Bucky threw his hands up as he began walking again, the spill and rescue forgotten. “We’re going ice skating. New Year’s problem _solved_!”

Steve sputtered, going after him. “But Buck, I—“

“Have I or have I not just proven that I can catch you?” Bucky demanded with a playful look. “‘Sides, Central Park is pretty with all this snow.”

“Central Park,” Steve repeated dumbly. “There’ll be a _ton_ of people.”

Bucky waved his hand. “Psh. It’ll be romantic! Ice skating, hot chocolate, fireworks, those little twinkly lights on the trees….”

“….Broken bones, ice, freezing air, sharp objects…” Steve continued on for him skeptically. “Yeah. _Romantic_ is totally the word that comes to mind.”

“You are such a pessimist.”

 

**New Year’s Eve**

Steve pulled his scarf up over his nose and shoved his hands back into his pockets. The cold hadn’t been so bad while walking, but when they had stopped to wait for the crossing light to change, the chill had begun to set and seep into his skin. It was one of the rare occasions that he found himself not embarrassed one bit by Bucky’s slightly over-protective tendencies; the taller provided excellent cover from the elements.

Bucky sighed above him, causing Steve to look up; the brunette was looking over the sea of people, up at the buildings. Everywhere, really. A smile tugged at the corner of Steve’s mouth and he stepped a bit closer to bump the other with his elbow to bring him back to earth. He’d caught him on more than one occasion just stopping and _looking_ at his surroundings. Even though Bucky had moved back to the city months ago, he was still in the process of re-appreciating the city he’d left behind.

It was, well…beautiful, really, the way that the other took it all in in an almost wondrous fashion. Steve failed to see what the big deal was, but then again he’d never been anywhere else. ‘ _Los Angeles has nothin’ on New York, Stevie’_ Bucky had said once when he’d asked what the hell he was doing one day when the other had stopped on the sidewalk, looking like he was a million miles away.

A bashful look came over the pianist, and he shrugged his shoulders a little. “Sorry. I zoned out again huh?”

The light changed, and the crowd around them surged forward.

 

 

 

“Buck, I can’t do this.”

Steve was clinging onto the rail just inside the ice rink, one bladed foot already touching the solid white sheet that was supposed to be _fun._

_Ha. Right._

Bucky had glided out effortlessly, turning back to wait for him. He smiled, holding his hand out. “C’mon, Steve. It’s ok.”

Several people had moved past him already, giving sympathetic smiles as they moved out onto the ice. Steve cast a weary glance out across the vast amount of space that held _way_ too many people for his liking, and he huffed.

“I’m gonna fall.”

“I’m not gonna let you fall,” Bucky chided. “Just relax, you can keep hold on the bar until you’re ready.”

Sighing, Steve did as he was told, carefully edging out of the entryway and putting two feet fully onto the ice.

 

It took some convincing and coaxing, but he was finally out in the open. Granted he was only a few feet away from the railing that ran around the entire rink, but hey, progress was progress. Bucky was more than patient, moving _backwards_ \--much to Steve’s disgruntled totally unreasonable jealously-- coaching him along.

A kid went shooting by him in a flash of bright colors and Steve wobbled a little, arms not quite flailing but _so_ so close…

“You are _way_ too tense,” Bucky tutted, reaching out to hold onto Steve’s hands to steady him. “Bend your knees a little.”

Steve regained his balance a lot faster than he thought he would. _Maybe I’m getting better at this._ As soon as he finished that thought, _another_ kid hauled ass past him. _Buzzing him._ If it wasn’t for Bucky’s quick reflexes, he would have fallen flat onto his ass.

“Ok, he did that on purpose!” Steve growled, glaring after the kid. It was all becoming eerily similar to his childhood and he was hating it.

“Probably,” Bucky shrugged, the apologetic look canceled out by the chuckle. He looked over his shoulder to the group of kids the assailant had joined, and to Steve’s joy an adult had approached the group—a parent, more than likely—and began scolding them. It was apparent that was the case when said adult gave them small wave and nod of apology.

“Ooh,” Bucky grinned, turning back to Steve. “Someone got in trouble,” he sang.

 

 

Most of the prime spots for viewing the fireworks were taken already when they got off the ice. Opting for a place along the edge of one of the large groups of people, they stopped to wait until the countdown.

A large gust of cold, icy wind swept through the area and Steve shivered against it, pulling the collar of his coat a little tighter around his neck.

Then suddenly warmth enveloped him.

Blinking, it took Steve a second to realize that Bucky had moved behind him and his arms were wrapped over his shoulders, sheltering him from the breeze.

“You just had to say that you were cold, you know,” he scolded. “I don’t want you gettin’ sick on me.”

Steve shrugged. Well, best he could in the tight embrace that he was in. “It’s at least taking my mind off how bad my legs hurt.” His legs were _killing_ him; he wanted no part of ice skating anymore. Until next year, anyway.

Bucky’s laugh rumbling against Steve’s back. “But you had fun, right?”

“’Course I did,” Steve bumped his head back against the other’s chest playfully.

“Good. ‘Cuz like I said before, I dunno how busy I’m gonna be. Just wanna make the best of the free time while we have it.”

“Its _fine_ ,” Steve assured again as his eyes scanned the crowd, and then the sky. “Stop worrying about it so much.”

“See, part of me is like, super stoked about you being understandin' and all,” The brunette spoke over his head. “But the other part of me wants you to throw just a _little_ bit of a fit.”

Steve balked. “What— _why?”_

Bucky grunted, and the arm around Steve’s chest tightened. “It’ll make me feel better?”

“You want me to chew you out because you feel bad…” Steve spoke slowly, not quite sure he was getting it.

“Well when you say it like that it makes it seem stupid.”

“Cuz it is.” He answered dryly, pursing his lips. He was proud of Bucky, and he was happy that _Bucky_ seemed more than happy about starting this new chapter of his career. The night he’d had to drag the other home drunk was still fresh in Steve’s memory, and he never wanted to see the pianist that way again.  

“Oh c’mon,” Bucky whined into his hair. “Please?”

Steve sighed. “Fine. Ok. Um…..” He frowned, trying to think of something to appease the taller. “You can’t be too busy for _me,_ ” He staged awkwardly. “If you think you’re going to get away with ignoring me, you have another thing coming. Buster.” Steve made a disgusted face at the last word he’d tacked on.

Bucky sniggered. “ _Buster_?”

“Hey shut up,” Steve snorted defensively. “You never said anything about it needing to be _convincing_.”

“Ok ok, you’re right. I’ll take it,” Bucky was probably grinning above him and Steve rolled his eyes, a smile breaking out onto his face. He heard the other man clear his throat before he continued on.

“But wait, Steve!” The brunette’s voice had taken on the tone of some dramatic announcer that belonged in a campy superhero show. “I have the perfect solution to the problem!”

He held up something in front of Steve’s face that gleamed in the dim light

A key.

Steve turned to look up at him, causing the arms to fall away. He eyed the piece of metal for a moment. “A…..key to your place?” He guessed.

“Yeah. So you can come over whenever you want.”

Steve was speechless. No one had ever given them a key to their place before. Well, minus Peggy, when they used to live in the same building. But that was different. This was different. He couldn’t help but feel hesitant as he looked up at the other. “Don’t I already sort of do that?” He asked timidly.

Bucky pouted, lowering his hand when Steve didn’t take it the object. “Well yeah. But this is like….the symbol of you _never_ have to call beforehand, you know? He explained. “I mean it. _Whenever,”_ He tilted his head forward just a bit to emphasize it, and held his hand up again. “Ok?”

Steve smiled, and reached out to take the key. “Ok.”

“I mean, you could have dinner waiting for me sometimes too, ‘Cuz that’d be really- -ow! I’m _kidding_! Jesus!”

Steve had punched him in the shoulder. _Hard_.

“Jerk.”

“Punk.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to you all again, and def don't be shy about mailing me about some prompts and stuff, ok? :)v I'm probably going to try to put something together for Valentine's Day, so keep and eye out ;3
> 
>  
> 
> \--also, I wrote this a few days before Alan Rickman's death, and I'm on Bucky's team even more than ever now; Die Hard is at least MY Christmas movie! ;( <3 sigh
> 
> \--I did spot a few Christmas+ice skating stories awhile back, but I'd already decided to do this and I wasn't gonna change it :P So I didn't read any of those pieces. If anything is similar, then oops. my bad, it wasn't intentional!


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